Books: The Hollow Needle
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Maurice Leblanc >> The Hollow Needle
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"Arsene Lupin."
"Mme. Arsene Lupin."
He took up the third card and started back with surprise. It bore
his own name:
"Isidore Beautrelet!"
CHAPTER TEN
THE TREASURES OF THE KINGS OF FRANCE
A curtain was drawn back.
"Good morning, my dear Beautrelet, you're a little late. Lunch was
fixed for twelve. However, it's only a few minutes--but what's the
matter? Don't you know me? Have I changed so much?"
In the course of his fight with Lupin, Beautrelet had met with many
surprises and he was still prepared, at the moment of the final
catastrophe, to experience any number of further emotions; but the
shock which he received this time was utterly unexpected. It was not
astonishment, but stupefaction, terror. The man who stood before
him, the man whom the brutal force of events compelled him to look
upon as Arsene Lupin, was--Valmeras! Valmeras, the owner of the
Chateau de l'Aiguille! Valmeras, the very man to whom he had applied
for assistance against Arsene Lupin! Valmeras, his companion on the
expedition to Crozant! Valmeras, the plucky friend who had made
Raymonde's escape possible by felling one of Lupin's accomplices, or
pretending to fell him, in the dusk of the great hall! And Valmeras
was Lupin!
"You--you--So it's you!" he stammered.
"Why not?" exclaimed Lupin. "Did you think that you knew me for good
and all because you had seen me in the guise of a clergyman or under
the features of M. Massiban? Alas, when a man selects the position
in society which I occupy, he must needs make use of his little
social gifts! If Lupin were not able to change himself, at will,
into a minister of the Church of England or a member of the Academy
of Inscriptions and Belles-Lettres, it would be a bad lookout for
Lupin! Now Lupin, the real Lupin, is here before you, Beautrelet!
Take a good look at him."
"But then--if it's you--then--Mademoiselle--"
"Yes, Beautrelet, as you say--"
He again drew back the hanging, beckoned and announced:
"Mme. Arsene Lupin."
"Ah," murmured the lad, confounded in spite of everything, "Mlle. de
Saint-Veran!"
"No, no," protested Lupin. "Mme. Arsene Lupin, or rather, if you
prefer, Mme. Louis Valmeras, my wedded wife, married to me in
accordance with the strictest forms of law; and all thanks to you,
my dear Beautrelet."
He held out his hand to him.
"All my acknowledgements--and no ill will on your side, I trust?"
Strange to say, Beautrelet felt no ill will at all, no sense of
humiliation, no bitterness. He realized so strongly the immense
superiority of his adversary that he did not blush at being beaten
by him. He pressed the offered hand.
"Luncheon is served, ma'am."
A butler had placed a tray of dishes on the table.
"You must excuse us, Beautrelet: my chef is away and we can only
give you a cold lunch."
Beautrelet felt very little inclined to eat. He sat down, however,
and was enormously interested in Lupin's attitude. How much exactly
did he know? Was he aware of the danger he was running? Was he
ignorant of the presence of Ganimard and his men?
And Lupin continued:
"Yes, thanks to you, my dear friend. Certainly, Raymonde and I loved
each other from the first. Just so, my boy--Raymonde's abduction,
her imprisonment, were mere humbug: we loved each other. But neither
she nor I, when we were free to love, would allow a casual bond at
the mercy of chance, to be formed between us. The position,
therefore, was hopeless for Lupin. Fortunately, it ceased to be so
if I resumed my identity as the Louis Valmeras that I had been from
a child. It was then that I conceived the idea, as you refused to
relinquish your quest and had found the Chateau de l'Aiguille, of
profiting by your obstinacy."
"And my silliness."
"Pooh! Any one would have been caught as you were!"
"So you were really able to succeed because I screened you and
assisted you?"
"Of course! How could any one suspect Valmeras of being Lupin, when
Valmeras was Beautrelet's friend and after Valmeras had snatched
from Lupin's clutches the girl whom Lupin loved? And how charming it
was! Such delightful memories! The expedition to Crozant! The
bouquets we found! My pretended love letter to Raymonde! And, later,
the precautions which I, Valmeras, had to take against myself,
Lupin, before my marriage! And the night of your great banquet,
Beautrelet, when you fainted in my arms! Oh, what memories!"
There was a pause. Beautrelet watched Raymonde. She had listened to
Lupin without saying a word and looked at him with eyes in which he
read love, passion and something else besides, something which the
lad could not define, a sort of anxious embarrassment and a vague
sadness. But Lupin turned his eyes upon her and she gave him an
affectionate smile. Their hands met over the table.
"What do you say to the way I have arranged my little home,
Beautrelet?" cried Lupin. "There's a style about it, isn't there? I
don't pretend that it's as comfortable as it might be. And yet, some
have been quite satisfied with it; and not the least of mankind,
either!--Look at the list of distinguished people who have owned the
Needle in their time and who thought it an honor to leave a mark of
their sojourn."
On the walls, one below the other, were carved the following names:
JULIUS CAESAR
CHARLEMAGNE ROLLO
WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR
RICHARD COEUR-DE-LEON
LOUIS XI.
FRANCIS I.
HENRY IV.
LOUIS XIV.
ARSENE LUPIN
"Whose name will figure after ours?" he continued. "Alas, the list
is closed! From Caesar to Lupin--and there it ends. Soon the
nameless mob will come to visit the strange citadel. And to think
that, but for Lupin, all this would have remained for ever unknown
to men! Ah Beautrelet, what a feeling of pride was mine on the day
when I first set foot on this abandoned soil. To have found the lost
secret and become its master, its sole master! To inherit such an
inheritance! To live in the Needle, after all those kings!--"
He was interrupted by a gesture of his wife's. She seemed greatly
agitated.
"There is a noise," she said. "Underneath us.--You can hear it."
"It's the lapping of the water," said Lupin.
"No, indeed it's not. I know the sound of the waves. This is
something different."
"What would you have it be, darling?" said Lupin, smiling. "I
invited no one to lunch except Beautrelet." And, addressing the
servant, "Charolais, did you lock the staircase doors behind the
gentleman?"
"Yes, sir, and fastened the bolts."
Lupin rose:
"Come, Raymonde, don't shake like that. Why, you're quite pale!"
He spoke a few words to her in an undertone, as also to the servant,
drew back the curtain and sent them both out of the room.
The noise below grew more distinct. It was a series of dull blows,
repeated at intervals. Beautrelet thought:
"Ganimard has lost patience and is breaking down the doors."
Lupin resumed the thread of his conversation, speaking very calmly
and as though he had really not heard:
"By Jove, the Needle was badly damaged when I succeeded in
discovering it! One could see that no one had possessed the secret
for more than a century, since Louis XVI. and the Revolution. The
tunnel was threatening to fall in. The stairs were in a shocking
state. The water was trickling in from the sea. I had to prop up and
strengthen and rebuild the whole thing."
Beautrelet could not help asking:
"When you arrived, was it empty?"
"Very nearly. The kings did not use the Needle, as I have done, as a
warehouse."
"As a place of refuge, then?"
"Yes, no doubt, in times of invasion and during the civil wars. But
its real destination was to be--how shall I put it?--the strong-room
or the bank of the kings of France."
The sound of blows increased, more distinctly now. Ganimard must
have broken down the first door and was attacking the second. There
was a short silence and then more blows, nearer still. It was the
third door. Two remained.
Through one of the windows, Beautrelet saw a number of fishing-
smacks sailing round the Needle and, not far away, floating on the
waters like a great black fish, the torpedo-boat.
"What a row!" exclaimed Lupin. "One can't hear one's self speak!
Let's go upstairs, shall we? It may interest you to look over the
Needle."
They climbed to the floor above, which was protected, like the
others, by a door which Lupin locked behind him.
"My picture gallery," he said.
The walls were covered with canvases on which Beautrelet recognized
the most famous signatures. There were Raphael's Madonna of the
Agnus Dei, Andrea del Sarto's Portrait of Lucrezia Fede, Titian's
Salome, Botticelli's Madonna and Angels and numbers of Tintorettos,
Carpaccios, Rembrandts, Velasquez.
"What fine copies!" said Beautrelet, approvingly.
Lupin looked at him with an air of stupefaction:
"What! Copies! You must be mad! The copies are in Madrid, my dear
fellow, in Florence, Venice, Munich, Amsterdam."
"Then these--"
"Are the original pictures, my lad, patiently collected in all the
museums of Europe, where I have replaced them, like an honest man,
with first-rate copies."
"But some day or other--"
"Some day or other, the fraud will be discovered? Well, they will
find my signature on each canvas--at the back--and they will know
that it was I who have endowed my country with the original
masterpieces. After all, I have only done what Napoleon did in
Italy.--Oh, look, Beautrelet: here are M. de Gesvres's four
Rubenses!--"
The knocking continued within the hollow of the Needle without
ceasing.
"I can't stand this!" said Lupin. "Let's go higher."
A fresh staircase. A fresh door.
"The tapestry-room," Lupin announced.
The tapestries were not hung on the walls, but rolled, tied up with
cord, ticketed; and, in addition, there were parcels of old fabrics
which Lupin unfolded: wonderful brocades, admirable velvets, soft,
faded silks, church vestments woven with silver and gold--
They went higher still and Beautrelet saw the room containing the
clocks and other time-pieces, the book-room--oh, the splendid
bindings, the precious, undiscoverable volumes, the unique copies
stolen from the great public libraries--the lace-room, the
knicknack-room.
And each time the circumference of the room grew smaller.
And each time, now, the sound of knocking was more distant. Ganimard
was losing ground.
"This is the last room," said Lupin. "The treasury."
This one was quite different. It was round also, but very high and
conical in shape. It occupied the top of the edifice and its floor
must have been fifteen or twenty yards below the extreme point of
the Needle.
On the cliff side there was no window. But on the side of the sea,
whence there were no indiscreet eyes to fear, two glazed openings
admitted plenty of light.
The ground was covered with a parqueted flooring of rare wood,
forming concentric patterns. Against the walls stood glass cases and
a few pictures.
"The pearls of my collection," said Lupin. "All that you have seen
so far is for sale. Things come and things go. That's business. But
here, in this sanctuary, everything is sacred. There is nothing here
but choice, essential pieces, the best of the best, priceless
things. Look at these jewels, Beautrelet: Chaldean amulets, Egyptian
necklaces, Celtic bracelets, Arab chains. Look at these statuettes,
Beautrelet, at this Greek Venus, this Corinthian Apollo. Look at
these Tanagras, Beautrelet: all the real Tanagras are here. Outside
this glass case, there is not a single genuine Tanagra statuette in
the whole wide world. What a delicious thing to be able to say!--
Beautrelet, do you remember Thomas and his gang of church-pillagers
in the South--agents of mine, by the way? Well, here is the Ambazac
reliquary, the real one, Beautrelet! Do you remember the Louvre
scandal, the tiara which was admitted to be false, invented and
manufactured by a modern artist? Here is the tiara of Saitapharnes,
the real one, Beautrelet! Look, Beautrelet, look with all your eyes:
here is the marvel of marvels, the supreme masterpiece, the work of
no mortal brain; here is Leonardo's Gioconda, the real one! Kneel,
Beautrelet, kneel; all womankind stands before you in this picture."
There was a long silence between them. Below, the sound of blows
drew nearer. Two or three doors, no more, separated them from
Ganimard. In the offing, they saw the black back of the torpedo-boat
and the fishing-smacks cruising to and fro.
The boy asked:
"And the treasure?"
"Ah, my little man, that's what interests you most! None of those
masterpieces of human art can compete with the contemplation of the
treasure as a matter of curiosity, eh?--And the whole crowd will be
like you!--Come, you shall be satisfied."
He stamped his foot, and, in so doing, made one of the discs
composing the floor-pattern turn right over. Then, lifting it as
though it were the lid of a box, he uncovered a sort of large round
bowl, dug in the thickness of the rock. It was empty.
A little farther, he went through the same performance. Another
large bowl appeared. It was also empty.
He did this three times over again. The three other bowls were
empty.
"Eh," grinned Lupin. "What a disappointment! Under Louis XL, under
Henry IV., under Richelieu, the five bowls were full. But think of
Louis XIV., the folly of Versailles, the wars, the great disasters
of the reign! And think of Louis XV., the spendthrift king, with his
Pompadour and his Du Barry! How they must have drawn on the treasure
in those days! With what thieving claws they must have scratched at
the stone. You see, there's nothing left."
He stopped.
"Yes, Beautrelet, there is something--the sixth hiding-place! This
one was intangible. Not one of them dared touch it. It was the very
last resource, the nest-egg, the something put by for a rainy day.
Look, Beautrelet!"
He stooped and lifted up the lid. An iron box filled the bowl. Lupin
took from his pocket a key with a complicated bit and wards and
opened the box.
A dazzling sight presented itself. Every sort of precious stone
sparkled there, every color gleamed, the blue of the sapphires, the
red of the rubies, the green of the emeralds, the yellow of the
topazes.
"Look, look, little Beautrelet! They have squandered all the cash,
all the gold, all the silver, all the crown pieces and all the
ducats and all the doubloons; but the chest with the jewels has
remained intact. Look at the settings. They belong to every period,
to every century, to every country. The dowries of the queens are
here. Each brought her share: Margaret of Scotland and Charlotte of
Savoy; duchesses of Austria: Eleonore, Elisabeth, Marie-Therese,
Mary of England and Catherine de Medicis; and all the arch--Marie
Antoinette. Look at those pearls, Beautrelet! And those diamonds:
look at the size of the diamonds! Not one of them but is worthy of
an empress! The Pitt Diamond is no finer!"
He rose to his feet and held up his hand as one taking an oath:
"Beautrelet, you shall tell the world that Lupin has not taken a
single one of the stones that were in the royal chest, not a single
one, I swear it on my honor! I had no right to. They are the fortune
of France."
Below them, Ganimard was making all speed. It was easy to judge by
the reverberation of the blows that his men were attacking the last
door but one, the door that gave access to the knicknack-room.
"Let us leave the chest open," said Lupin, "and all the cavities,
too, all those little empty graves."
He went round the room, examined some of the glass cases, gazed at
some of the pictures and, as he walked, said, pensively:
"How sad it is to leave all this! What a wrench! The happiest hours
of my life have been spent here, alone, in the presence of these
objects which I loved. And my eyes will never behold them again and
my hands will never touch them again--"
His drawn face bore such an expression of lassitude upon it that
Beautrelet felt a vague sort of pity for him. Sorrow in that man
must assume larger proportions than in another, even as joy did, or
pride, or humiliation. He was now standing by the window, and, with
his finger pointing to the horizon, said:
"What is sadder still is that I must abandon that, all that! How
beautiful it is! The boundless sea--the sky.--On either side, the
cliffs of Etretat with their three natural archways: the Porte
d'Armont, the Porte d'Aval, the Manneporte--so many triumphal arches
for the master. And the master was I! I was the king of the story,
the king of fairyland, the king of the Hollow Needle! A strange and
supernatural kingdom! From Caesar to Lupin: what a destiny!" He
burst out laughing. "King of fairyland! Why not say King of Yvetot
at once? What nonsense! King of the world, yes, that's more like it!
From this topmost point of the Needle, I ruled the globe! I held it
in my claws like a prey! Lift the tiara of Saitapharnes,
Beautrelet.--You see those two telephones? The one on the right
communicates with Paris: a private line; the one on the left with
London: a private line. Through London, I am in touch with America,
Asia, Australia, South Africa. In all those continents, I have my
offices, my agents, my jackals, my scouts! I drive an international
trade. I hold the great market in art and antiquities, the world's
fair! Ah, Beautrelet, there are moments when my power turns my head!
I feel intoxicated with strength and authority."
The door gave way below. They heard Ganimard and his men running
about and searching.
After a moment, Lupin continued, in a low voice:
"And now it's over. A little girl crossed my path, a girl with soft
hair and wistful eyes and an honest, yes, an honest soul--and it's
over. I myself am demolishing the mighty edifice.--All the rest
seems absurd and childish to me--nothing counts but her hair--and
her wistful eyes--and her honest little soul--"
The men came up the staircase. A blow shook the door, the last door-
-
Lupin seized the boy sharply by the arm:
"Do you understand, Beautrelet, why I let you have things your own
way when I could have crushed you, time after time, weeks ago? Do
you understand how you succeeded in getting as far as this? Do you
understand that I had given each of my men his share of the plunder
when you met them the other night on the cliff? You do understand,
don't you? The Hollow Needle is the great adventure. As long as it
belongs to me, I remain the great adventurer. Once the Needle is
recaptured, it means that the past and I are parted and that the
future begins, a future of peace and happiness, in which I shall
have no occasion to blush when Raymonde's eyes are turned upon me, a
future--"
He turned furiously toward the door:
"Stop that noise, Ganimard, will you? I haven't finished my speech!"
The blows came faster. It was like the sound of a beam that was
being hurled against the door. Beautrelet, mad with curiosity, stood
in front of Lupin and awaited events, without understanding what
Lupin was doing or contemplating. To give up the Needle was all very
well; but why was he giving up himself? What was his plan? Did he
hope to escape from Ganimard? And, on the other hand, where was
Raymonde?
Lupin, meantime, was murmuring, dreamily:
"An honest man.--Arsene Lupin an honest man--no more robbery--
leading the life of everybody else.--And why not? There is no reason
why I should not meet with the same success.--But do stop that now,
Ganimard! Don't you know, you ass, that I'm uttering historic words
and that Beautrelet is taking them in for the benefit of posterity?"
He laughed. "I am wasting my time. Ganimard will never grasp the use
of my historic words."
He took a piece of red chalk, put a pair of steps to the wall and
wrote, in large letters:
Arsene Lupin gives and bequeaths to France all the treasures
contained in the Hollow Needle, on the sole condition that these
treasures be housed at the Musee du Louvre in rooms which shall be
known as the Arsene Lupin Rooms.
"Now," he said, "my conscience is at ease. France and I are quits."
The attackers were striking with all their might. One of the panels
burst in two. A hand was put through and fumbled for the lock.
"Thunder!" said Lupin. "That idiot of a Ganimard is capable of
effecting his purpose for once in his life."
He rushed to the lock and removed the key.
"Sold, old chap!--The door's tough.--I have plenty of time--
Beautrelet, I must say good-bye. And thank you!--For really you
could have complicated the attack--but you're so tactful!"
While speaking, he moved toward a large triptych by Van der Weyden,
representing the Wise Men of the East. He shut the right-hand panel
and, in so doing, exposed a little door concealed behind it and
seized the handle.
"Good luck to your hunting, Ganimard! And kind regards at home!"
A pistol-shot resounded. Lupin jumped back: "Ah, you rascal, full in
the heart! Have you been taking lessons? You've done for the Wise
Man! Full in the heart! Smashed to smithereens, like a pipe at the
fair!--"
"Lupin, surrender!" roared Ganimard, with his eyes glittering and
his revolver showing through the broken panel of the door.
"Surrender, I say!"
"Did the old guard surrender?"
"If you stir a limb, I'll blow your brains out!"
"Nonsense! You can't get me here!"
As a matter of fact, Lupin had moved away; and, though Ganimard was
able to fire straight in front of him through the breach in the
door, he could not fire, still less take aim, on the side where
Lupin stood. Lupin's position was a terrible one for all that,
because the outlet on which he was relying, the little door behind
the triptych, opened right in front of Ganimard. To try to escape
meant to expose himself to the detective's fire; and there were five
bullets left in the revolver.
"By Jove," he said, laughing, "there's a slump in my shares this
afternoon! You've done a nice thing. Lupin, old fellow: you wanted a
last sensation and you've gone a bit too far. You shouldn't have
talked so much."
He flattened himself against the wall. A further portion of the
panel had given way under the men's pressure and Ganimard was less
hampered in his movements. Three yards, no more, separated the two
antagonists. But Lupin was protected by a glass case with a gilt-
wood framework
"Why don't you help, Beautrelet?" cried the old detective, gnashing
his teeth with rage. "Why don't you shoot him, instead of staring at
him like that?"
Isidore, in fact, had not budged, had remained, till that moment, an
eager, but passive spectator. He would have liked to fling himself
into the contest with all his strength and to bring down the prey
which he held at his mercy. He was prevented by some inexplicable
sentiment.
But Ganimard's appeal for assistance shook him. His hand closed on
the butt of his revolver:
"If I take part in it," he thought, "Lupin is lost. And I have the
right--it's my duty."
Their eyes met. Lupin's were calm, watchful, almost inquisitive, as
though, in the awful danger that threatened him, he were interested
only in the moral problem that held the young man in its clutches.
Would Isidore decide to give the finishing stroke to the defeated
enemy?
The door cracked from top to bottom.
"Help, Beautrelet, we've got him!" Ganimard bellowed.
Isidore raised his revolver.
What happened was so quick that he knew of it, so to speak, only by
the result. He saw Lupin bob down and run along the wall, skimming
the door right under the weapon which Ganimard was vainly
brandishing; and he felt himself suddenly flung to the ground,
picked up the next moment and lifted by an invincible force.
Lupin held him in the air, like a living shield, behind which he hid
himself.
"Ten to one that I escape, Ganimard! Lupin, you see, has never quite
exhausted his resources--"
He had taken a couple of brisk steps backward to the triptych.
Holding Beautrelet with one hand flat against his chest, with the
other he cleared the passage and closed the little door behind them.
A steep staircase appeared before their eyes.
"Come along," said Lupin, pushing Beautrelet before him. "The land
forces are beaten--let us turn our attention to the French fleet.--
After Waterloo, Trafalgar.--You're having some fun for your money,
eh, my lad?--Oh, how good: listen to them knocking at the triptych
now!--It's too late, my children.--But hurry along, Beautrelet!"
The staircase, dug out in the wall of the Needle, dug in its very
crust, turned round and round the pyramid, encircling it like the
spiral of a tobogganslide. Each hurrying the other, they clattered
down the treads, taking two or three at a bound. Here and there, a
ray of light trickled through a fissure; and Beautrelet carried away
the vision of the fishing-smacks hovering a few dozen fathoms off,
and of the black torpedo-boat.
They went down and down, Isidore in silence, Lupin still bubbling
over with merriment:
"I should like to know what Ganimard is doing? Is he tumbling down
the other staircases to bar the entrance to the tunnel against me?
No, he's not such a fool as that. He must have left four men there--
and four men are sufficient--" He stopped. "Listen--they're shouting
up above. That's it, they've opened the window and are calling to
their fleet.--Why, look, the men are busy on board the smacks--
they're exchanging signals.--The torpedo-boat is moving.--Dear old
torpedo-boat! I know you, you're from the Havre.--Guns' crews to the
guns!--Hullo, there's the commander!--How are you, Duguay-Trouin?"
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