Arsène Lupin Versus Herlock Sholmes Maurice Leblanc (classic literature books .TXT) 📖

“Lupin! always Lupin! Lupin is into everything; Lupin is everywhere!”

“Yes, Lupin is into everything of any consequence,” replied Ganimard, vexed at the ridicule of his superior.

“Well, so far as I see,” observed Mon. Dudouis, “you have not discovered any motive for this crime. The secretary was not broken into, nor the pocketbook carried away. Even, a pile of gold was left upon the table.”

“Yes, that is so,” exclaimed Ganimard, “but the famous diamond?”

“What diamond?”

“The blue diamond! The celebrated diamond which formed part of the royal crown of France, and which was given by the Duke d’Aumale to Leonide Lebrun, and, at the death of Leonide Lebrun, was purchased by the Baron d’Hautrec as a souvenir of the charming comedienne that he had loved so well. That is one of those things that an old Parisian, like I, does not forget.”

“It is obvious that if the blue diamond is not found, the motive for the crime is disclosed,” said the magistrate. “But where should we search for it?”

“On the baron’s finger,” replied Charles. “He always wore the blue diamond on his left hand.”

“I saw that hand, and there was only a plain gold ring on it,” said Ganimard, as he approached the corpse.

“Look in the palm of the hand,” replied the servant.

Ganimard opened the stiffened hand. The bezel was turned inward, and, in the centre of that bezel, the blue diamond shone with all its glorious splendor.

“The deuce!” muttered Ganimard, absolutely amazed, “I don’t understand it.”

“You will now apologize to Lupin for having suspected him, eh?” said Mon. Dudouis, laughing.

Ganimard paused for a moment’s reflection, and then replied, sententiously:

“It is only when I do not understand things that I suspect Arsène Lupin.”

Such were the facts established by the police on the day after the commission of that mysterious crime. Facts that were vague and incoherent in themselves, and which were not explained by any subsequent discoveries. The movements of Antoinette Bréhat remained as inexplicable as those of the blonde Lady, and the police discovered no trace of that mysterious creature with the golden hair who had killed Baron d’Hautrec and had failed to take from his finger the famous diamond that had once shone in the royal crown of France.

The heirs of the Baron d’Hautrec could not fail to benefit by such notoriety. They established in the house an exhibition of the furniture and other objects which were to be sold at the auction rooms of Drouot & Co. Modern furniture of indifferent taste, various objects of no artistic value⁠ ⁠… but, in the centre of the room, in a case of purple velvet, protected by a glass globe, and guarded by two officers, was the famous blue diamond ring.

A large magnificent diamond of incomparable purity, and of that indefinite blue which the clear water receives from an unclouded sky, of that blue which can be detected in the whiteness of linen. Some admired, some enthused⁠ ⁠… and some looked with horror on the chamber of the victim, on the spot where the corpse had lain, on the floor divested of its bloodstained carpet, and especially the walls, the unsurmountable walls over which the criminal must have passed. Some assured themselves that the marble mantel did not move, others imagined gaping holes, mouths of tunnels, secret connections with the sewers, and the catacombs⁠—

The sale of the blue diamond took place at the salesroom of Drouot & Co. The place was crowded to suffocation, and the bidding was carried to the verge of folly. The sale was attended by all those who usually appear at similar events in Paris; those who buy, and those who make a pretense of being able to buy; bankers, brokers, artists, women of all classes, two cabinet ministers, an Italian tenor, an exiled king who, in order to maintain his credit, bid, with much ostentation, and in a loud voice, as high as one hundred thousand francs. One hundred thousand francs! He could offer that sum without any danger of his bid being accepted. The Italian tenor risked one hundred and fifty thousand, and a member of the Comédie-Française bid one hundred and seventy-five thousand francs.

When the bidding reached two hundred thousand francs, the smaller competitors fell out of the race. At two hundred and fifty thousand, only two bidders remained in the field: Herschmann, the well-known capitalist, the king of gold mines; and the Countess de Crozon, the wealthy American, whose collection of diamonds and precious stones is famed throughout the world.

“Two hundred and sixty thousand⁠ ⁠… two hundred and seventy thousand⁠ ⁠… seventy-five⁠ ⁠… eighty.⁠ ⁠…” exclaimed the auctioneer, as he glanced at the two competitors in succession. “Two hundred and eighty thousand for madame.⁠ ⁠… Do I hear any more?”

“Three hundred thousand,” said Herschmann.

There was a short silence. The countess was standing, smiling, but pale from excitement. She was leaning against the back of the chair in front of her. She knew, and so did everyone present, that the issue of the duel was certain; logically, inevitably, it must terminate to the advantage of the capitalist, who had untold millions with which to indulge his caprices. However, the countess made another bid:

“Three hundred and five thousand.”

Another silence. All eyes were now directed to the capitalist in the expectation that he would raise the bidding. But Herschmann was not paying any attention to the sale; his eyes were fixed on a sheet of paper which he held in his right hand, while the other hand held a torn envelope.

“Three hundred and five thousand,” repeated the auctioneer. “Once!⁠ ⁠… Twice!⁠ ⁠… For the last time.⁠ ⁠… Do I hear any more?⁠ ⁠… Once!⁠ ⁠… Twice!⁠ ⁠… Am I offered any more? Last chance!⁠ ⁠…”

Herschmann did not move.

“Third and last time!⁠ ⁠… Sold!” exclaimed the auctioneer, as his hammer fell.

“Four hundred thousand,” cried Herschman, starting up, as if the sound of the hammer had roused him from his stupor.

Too late; the auctioneer’s decision was irrevocable. Some of Herschmann’s acquaintances pressed around him. What was the matter? Why did he not speak sooner? He laughed, and said:

“Ma foi! I simply forgot⁠—in a moment