The Extraordinary Adventures of Arsène Lupin, Gentleman-Burglar Maurice Leblanc (ebook reader ink TXT) 📖

He opened his window. It opened on a court. Outside, everything was dark and quiet. He took from his desk a knotted rope, fastened it to the balcony in front of his window, and quietly descended as far as the window below, which was that of Imbert’s office. He stood upon the balcony for a moment, motionless, with attentive ear and watchful eye, but the heavy curtains effectually concealed the interior of the room. He cautiously pushed on the double window. If no one had examined it, it ought to yield to the slightest pressure, for, during the afternoon, he had so fixed the bolt that it would not enter the staple.

The window yielded to his touch. Then, with infinite care, he pushed it open sufficiently to admit his head. He parted the curtains a few inches, looked in, and saw Mon. Imbert and his wife sitting in front of the safe, deeply absorbed in their work and speaking softly to each other at rare intervals.

He calculated the distance between him and them, considered the exact movements he would require to make in order to overcome them, one after the other, before they could call for help, and he was about to rush upon them, when Madame Imbert said:

“Ah! the room is getting quite cold. I am going to bed. And you, my dear?”

“I shall stay and finish.”

“Finish! Why, that will take you all night.”

“Not at all. An hour, at the most.”

She retired. Twenty minutes, thirty minutes passed. Arsène pushed the window a little farther open. The curtains shook. He pushed once more. Mon. Imbert turned, and, seeing the curtains blown by the wind, he rose to close the window.

There was not a cry, not the trace of struggle. With a few precise moments, and without causing him the least injury, Arsène stunned him, wrapped the curtain about his head, bound him hand and foot, and did it all in such a manner that Mon. Imbert had no opportunity to recognize his assailant.

Quickly, he approached the safe, seized two packages that he placed under his arm, left the office, and opened the servants’ gate. A carriage was stationed in the street.

“Take that, first⁠—and follow me,” he said to the coachman. He returned to the office, and, in two trips, they emptied the safe. Then Arsène went to his own room, removed the rope, and all other traces of his clandestine work.

A few hours later, Arsène Lupin and his assistant examined the stolen goods. Lupin was not disappointed, as he had foreseen that the wealth of the Imberts had been greatly exaggerated. It did not consist of hundreds of millions, nor even tens of millions. Yet it amounted to a very respectable sum, and Lupin expressed his satisfaction.

“Of course,” he said, “there will be a considerable loss when we come to sell the bonds, as we will have to dispose of them surreptitiously at reduced prices. In the meantime, they will rest quietly in my desk awaiting a propitious moment.”

Arsène saw no reason why he should not go to the Imbert house the next day. But a perusal of the morning papers revealed this startling fact: Ludovic and Gervaise Imbert had disappeared.

When the officers of the law seized the safe and opened it, they found there what Arsène Lupin had left⁠—nothing.

Such are the facts; and I learned the sequel to them, one day, when Arsène Lupin was in a confidential mood. He was pacing to and fro in my room, with a nervous step and a feverish eye that were unusual to him.

“After all,” I said to him, “it was your most successful venture.”

Without making a direct reply, he said:

“There are some impenetrable secrets connected with that affair; some obscure points that escape my comprehension. For instance: What caused their flight? Why did they not take advantage of the help I unconsciously gave them? It would have been so simple to say: ‘The hundred millions were in the safe. They are no longer there, because they have been stolen.’ ”

“They lost their nerve.”

“Yes, that is it⁠—they lost their nerve⁠ ⁠… On the other hand, it is true⁠—”

“What is true?”

“Oh! nothing.”

What was the meaning of Lupin’s reticence? It was quite obvious that he had not told me everything; there was something he was loath to tell. His conduct puzzled me. It must indeed be a very serious matter to cause such a man as Arsène Lupin even a momentary hesitation. I threw out a few questions at random.

“Have you seen them since?”

“No.”

“And have you never experienced the slightest degree of pity for those unfortunate people?”

“I!” he exclaimed, with a start.

His sudden excitement astonished me. Had I touched him on a sore spot? I continued:

“Of course. If you had not left them alone, they might have been able to face the danger, or, at least, made their escape with full pockets.”

“What do you mean?” he said, indignantly. “I suppose you have an idea that my soul should be filled with remorse?”

“Call it remorse or regrets⁠—anything you like⁠—”

“They are not worth it.”

“Have you no regrets or remorse for having stolen their fortune?”

“What fortune?”

“The packages of bonds you took from their safe.”

“Oh! I stole their bonds, did I? I deprived them of a portion of their wealth? Is that my crime? Ah! my dear boy, you do not know the truth. You never imagined that those bonds were not worth the paper they were written on. Those bonds were false⁠—they were counterfeit⁠—every one of them⁠—do you understand? They were counterfeit!”

I looked at him, astounded.

“Counterfeit! The four or five millions?”

“Yes, counterfeit!” he exclaimed, in a fit of rage. “Only so many scraps of paper! I couldn’t raise a sou on the whole of them! And you ask me if I have any remorse. They are the ones who should have remorse and pity. They played me for a simpleton; and I fell into their trap. I was their latest victim, their most stupid gull!”

He was affected by genuine anger⁠—the result of malice and wounded pride. He continued:

“From start to finish, I