"Suzanne! Suzanne!"
She had just come in and ran up the stairs hurriedly. He stammered, in a choking voice:
"Suzanne ... the box ... the box of stationery...."
"Which one?"
"The one I bought at Louvre ... on a Thursday ... it used to stand at the end of the table."
"But don't you remember, father?... We put it away together...."
"When?"
"That evening ... you know, the day before...."
"But where?... Quick, tell me ... it's more than I can bear...."
"Where?... In the writing-desk."
"In the desk that was stolen?"
"Yes."
"In the desk that was stolen!"
He repeated the words in a whisper, with a sort of terror. Then he took her hand, and lower still:
"It contained a million, Suzanne...."
"Oh, father, why didn't you tell me?" she murmured innocently.
"A million!" he repeated. "It was the winning number in the press lottery."
The hugeness of the disaster crushed them and, for a long time, they maintained a silence which they had not the courage to break. At last Suzanne said:
"But, father, they will pay you all the same."
"Why? On what evidence?"
"Does it require evidence?"
"Of course!"
"And have you none?"
"Yes, I have."
"Well?"
"It was in the box."
"In the box that has disappeared?"
"Yes. And the other man will get the money."
"Why, that would be outrageous! Surely, father, you can stop the payment?"
"Who knows? Who knows? That man must be extraordinarily clever! He has such wonderful resources.... Remember ... think how he got hold of the desk...."
His energy revived; he sprang up and, stamping his foot on the floor.
"No, no, no," he shouted, "he shan't have that million, he shan't! Why should he? After all, sharp as he may be, he can do nothing, either. If he calls for the money, they'll lock him up! Ah, we shall see, my friend!"
"Have you thought of something, father?"
"I shall defend our rights to the bitter end, come what may! And we shall succeed!... The million belongs to me and I mean to have it!"
A few minutes later, he dispatched this telegram:
"Governor, "Crdit Foncier, "Rue Capucines, "Paris.
"Am owner number 514, series 23; oppose by every legal method payment to any other person. "GERBOIS."
At almost the same time, the Crdit Foncier received another telegram:
"Number 514, series 23, is in my possession. "ARSNE LUPIN."
* * * * *
Whenever I sit down to tell one of the numberless adventures which compose the life of Arsne Lupin, I feel a genuine embarrassment, because it is quite clear to me that even the least important of these adventures is known to every one of my readers. As a matter of fact, there is not a move on the part of "our national thief," as he has been happily called, but has been described all over the country, not an exploit but has been studied from every point of view, not an action but has been commented upon with an abundance of detail generally reserved for stories of heroic deeds.
Who, for instance, does not know that strange case of the blonde lady, with the curious episodes which were reported under flaring headlines as "NUMBER 514, SERIES 23!" ... "THE MURDER IN THE AVENUE HENRI-MARTIN!" ... and "THE BLUE DIAMOND!" ... What an excitement there was about the intervention of Holmlock Shears, the famous English detective! What an effervescence surrounded the varying fortunes that marked the struggle between those two great artists! And what a din along the boulevards on the day when the newsboys shouted:
"Arrest of Arsne Lupin!"
My excuse is that I can supply something new: I can furnish the key to the puzzle. There is always a certain mystery about these adventures: I can dispel it. I reprint articles that have been read over and over again; I copy out old interviews: but all these things I rearrange and classify and put to the exact test of truth. My collaborator in this work is Arsne Lupin himself, whose kindness to me is inexhaustible. I am also under an occasional obligation to the unspeakable Wilson, the friend and confidant of Holmlock Shears.
* * * * *
My readers will remember the Homeric laughter that greeted the publication of the two telegrams. The name of Arsne Lupin alone was a guarantee of originality, a promise of amusement for the gallery. And the gallery, in this case, was the whole world.
An inquiry was immediately set on foot by the Crdit Foncier and it was ascertained that number 514, series 23, had been sold by the Versailles branch of the Crdit Lyonnais to Major Bressy of the artillery. Now the major had died of a fall from his horse; and it appeared that he told his brother officers, some time before his death, that he had been obliged to part with his ticket to a friend.
"That friend was myself," declared M. Gerbois.
"Prove it," objected the governor of the Crdit Foncier.
"Prove it? That's quite easy. Twenty people will tell you that I kept up constant relations with the major and that we used to meet at the caf on the Place d'Armes. It was there that, one day, to oblige him in a moment of financial embarrassment, I took his ticket off him and gave him twenty francs for it."
"Have you any witnesses to the transaction?"
"No."
"Then upon what do you base your claim?"
"Upon the letter which he wrote me on the subject."
"What letter?"
"A letter pinned to the ticket."
"Produce it."
"But it was in the stolen writing-desk!"
"Find it."
* * * * *
The letter was communicated to the press by Arsne Lupin. A paragraph inserted in the _cho de France_--which has the honour of being his official organ and in which he seems to be one of the principal shareholders--announced that he was placing in the hands of Matre Detinan, his counsel, the letter which Major Bressy had written to him, Lupin, personally.
There was a burst of delight: Arsne Lupin was represented by counsel! Arsne Lupin, respecting established customs, had appointed a member of the bar to act for him!
The reporters rushed to interview Matre Detinan, an influential radical deputy, a man endowed with the highest integrity and a mind of uncommon shrewdness, which was, at the same time, somewhat skeptical and given to paradox.
Matre Detinan was exceedingly sorry to say that he had never had the pleasure of meeting Arsne Lupin, but he had, in point of fact, received his instructions,