The Hollow Needle Maurice Leblanc (good short books .txt) 📖

course! The document written by Louis XVI; and it is that which I held in my hands. The same appearance, the same shape, the same red seals. I understand why Lupin would not leave me a document which I could turn to account by merely examining the paper, the seals and so on.”

“And then?”

“Well, then, since the document is genuine, since I have, with my own eyes, seen the marks of the red seals, since Marie Antoinette herself assures me, by these few words in her hand, that the whole story of the pamphlet, as printed by M. Massiban, is correct, because a problem of the Hollow Needle really exists, I am now certain to succeed.”

“But how? Whether genuine or not, the document is of no use to you if you do not manage to decipher it, because Louis XVI destroyed the book that gave the explanation.”

“Yes, but the other copy, which King Louis XVI’s captain of the guards snatched from the flames, was not destroyed.”

“How do you know?”

“Prove the contrary.”

After uttering this defiance, Beautrelet was silent for a time and then, slowly, with his eyes closed, as though trying to fix and sum up his thoughts, he said:

“Possessing the secret, the captain of the guards begins by revealing it bit by bit in the journal found by his descendant. Then comes silence. The answer to the riddle is withheld. Why? Because the temptation to make use of the secret creeps over him little by little and he gives way to it. A proof? His murder. A further proof? The magnificent jewel found upon him, which he must undoubtedly have taken from some royal treasure the hiding-place of which, unknown to all, would just constitute the mystery of the Hollow Needle. Lupin conveyed as much to me; Lupin was not lying.”

“Then what conclusion do you draw, Beautrelet?”

“I draw this conclusion, my friends, that it be a good thing to advertise this story as much as possible, so that people may know, through all the papers, that we are looking for a book entitled The Treatise of the Needle. It may be fished out from the back shelves of some provincial library.”

The paragraph was drawn up forthwith; and Beautrelet set to work at once, without even waiting for it to produce a result. A first scent suggested itself: the murder was committed near Gaillon. He went there that same day. Certainly, he did not hope to reconstruct a crime perpetrated two hundred years ago. But, all the same, there are crimes that leave traces in the memories, in the traditions of a countryside. They are recorded in the local chronicles. One day, some provincial archaeologist, some lover of old legends, some student of the minor incidents of the life of the past makes them the subject of an article in a newspaper or of a communication to the academy of his departmental town.

Beautrelet saw three or four of these archaeologists. With one of them in particular, an old notary, he examined the prison records, the ledgers of the old bailiwicks and the parish registers. There was no entry referring to the murder of a captain of the guards in the seventeenth century.

He refused to be discouraged and continued his search in Paris, where the magistrate’s examination might have taken place. His efforts came to nothing.

But the thought of another track sent him off in a fresh direction. Was there no chance of finding out the name of that captain whose descendant served in the armies of the Republic and was quartered in the Temple during the imprisonment of the Royal family? By dint of patient working, he ended by making out a list in which two names at least presented an almost complete resemblance: M. de Larbeyrie, under Louis XIV, and Citizen Larbrie, under the Terror.

This already was an important point. He stated it with precision in a note which he sent to the papers, asking for any information concerning this Larbeyrie or his descendants.

It was M. Massiban, the Massiban of the pamphlet, the member of the Institute, who replied to him:

Sir:

Allow me to call your attention to the following passage of Voltaire, which I came upon in his manuscript of Le Siècle de Louis XIV (Chapter XXV: Particularités et anecdotes du régne). The passage has been suppressed in all the printed editions:

“I have heard it said by the late M. de Caumartin, intendant of finance, who was a friend of Chamillard the minister, that the King one day left hurriedly in his carriage at the news that M. de Larbeyrie had been murdered and robbed of some magnificent jewels. He seemed greatly excited and repeated:

“ ‘All is lost⁠—all is lost⁠—’

“In the following year, the son of this Larbeyrie and his daughter, who had married the Marquis de Vélines, were banished to their estates in Provence and Brittany. We cannot doubt that there is something peculiar in this.”

I, in my turn, will add that we can doubt it all the less inasmuch as M. de Chamillard, according to Voltaire, was the last minister who possessed the strange secret of the Iron Mask.

You will see for yourself, Sir, the profit that can be derived from this passage and the evident link established between the two adventures. As for myself, I will not venture to imagine any very exact surmise as regards the conduct, the suspicions, and the apprehensions of Louis XIV in these circumstances; but, on the other hand, seeing that M. de Larbeyrie left a son, who was probably the grandfather of Larbrie the citizen-officer, and also a daughter, is it not permissible to suppose that a part of the papers left by Larbeyrie came to the daughter and that among these papers was the famous copy which the captain of the guards saved from the flames?

I have consulted the Country-house Yearbook. There is a Baron de Vélines living not far from Rennes. Could he be a