Arsène Lupin versus Herlock Sholmes by Maurice Leblanc

Author:Maurice Leblanc
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com/Open Road

CHAPTER VI.

SECOND ARREST OF ARSÈNE LUPIN.

SINCE EIGHT O’CLOCK A DOZEN moving-vans had encumbered the rue Crevaux between the avenue du Bois-de-Boulogne and the avenue Bugeaud. Mon. Felix Davey was leaving the apartment in which he lived on the fourth floor of No. 8; and Mon. Dubreuil, who had united into a single apartment on the fifth floor of the same house and the fifth floor of the two adjoining houses, was moving on the same day—a mere coincidence, since the gentlemen were unknown to each other—the vast collection of furniture regarding which so many foreign agents visited him every day.

A circumstance which had been noticed by some of the neighbors, but was not spoken of until later, was this: None of the twelve vans bore the name and address of the owner, and none of the men accompanying them visited the neighboring wine shops. They worked so diligently that the furniture was all out by eleven o’clock. Nothing remained but those scraps of papers and rags that are always left behind in the corners of the empty rooms.

Mon. Felix Davey, an elegant young man, dressed in the latest fashion, carried in his hand a walking-stick, the weight of which indicated that its owner possessed extraordinary biceps—Mon. Felix Davey walked calmly away and took a seat on a bench in the avenue du Bois-de-Boulogne facing the rue Pergolese. Close to him a woman, dressed in a neat but inexpensive costume, was reading a newspaper, whilst a child was playing with a shovel in a heap of sand.

After a few minutes Felix Davey spoke to the woman, without turning his head:

“Ganimard!”

“Went out at nine o’clock this morning.”

“Where?”

“To police headquarters.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“No telegram during the night?”

“No.”

“Do they suspect you in the house?”

“No; I do some little things for Madame Ganimard, and she tells me everything her husband does. I have been with her all morning.”

“Very well. Until further orders come here every day at eleven o’clock.”

He rose and walked away in the direction of the Dauphine gate, stopping at the Chinese pavilion, where he partook of a frugal repast consisting of two eggs, with some fruit and vegetables. Then he returned to the rue Crevaux and said to the concierge:

“I will just glance through the rooms and then give you the keys.”

He finished his inspection of the room that he had used as a library; then he seized the end of a gas-pipe, which hung down the side of the chimney. The pipe was bent and a hole made in the elbow. To this hole he fitted a small instrument in the form of an ear-trumpet and blew into it. A slight whistling sound came by way of reply. Placing the trumpet to his mouth, he said:

“Anyone around, Dubreuil?”

“No.”

“May I come up?”

“Yes.”

He returned the pipe to its place, saying to himself:

“How progressive we are! Our century abounds with little inventions which render life really charming and picturesque. And so amusing! … Especially when a person knows how to enjoy life as I do.”

He turned one

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