Books: The Hollow Needle
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Maurice Leblanc >> The Hollow Needle
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He put his arm through a cleft and waved his handkerchief. Then he
continued his way downstairs:
"The enemy's fleet have set all sail," he said. "We shall be boarded
before we know where we are. Heavens, what fun!"
They heard the sound of voices below them. They were just then
approaching the level of the sea and they emerged, almost at once,
into a large cave into which two lanterns were moving about in the
dark.
A woman's figure appeared and threw itself on Lupin's neck:
"Quick, quick, I was so nervous about you. What have you been
doing?--But you're not alone!--"
Lupin reassured her:
"It's our friend Beautrelet.--Just think, Beautrelet had the tact--
but I'll talk about that later--there's no time now.--Charolais are
you there? That's right!--And the boat?"
"The boat's ready, sir," Charolais replied,
"Fire away," said Lupin.
In a moment, the noise of a motor crackled and Beautrelet, whose
eyes were gradually becoming used to the gloom, ended by perceiving
that they were on a sort of quay, at the edge of the water, and that
a boat was floating before them.
"A motor boat," said Lupin, completing Beautrelet's observations.
"This knocks you all of a heap, eh, Isidore, old chap?--You don't
understand.--Still, you have only to think.--As the water before
your eyes is no other than the water of the sea, which filters into
this excavation each high tide, the result is that I have a safe
little private roadstead all to myself."
"But it's closed," Beautrelet protested. "No one can get in or out."
"Yes, I can," said Lupin; "and I'm going to prove it to you."
He began by handing Raymonde in. Then he came back to fetch
Beautrelet. The lad hesitated.
"Are you afraid?" asked Lupin.
"What of?"
"Of being sunk by the torpedo-boat."
"No."
"Then you're considering whether it's not your duty to stay with
Ganimard, law and order, society and morality, instead of going off
with Lupin, shame, infamy and disgrace."
"Exactly."
"Unfortunately, my boy, you have no choice. For the moment, they
must believe the two of us dead--and leave me the peace to which a
prospective honest man is entitled. Later on, when I have given you
your liberty, you can talk as much as you please--I shall have
nothing more to fear."
By the way in which Lupin clutched his arm, Beautrelet felt that all
resistance was useless. Besides, why resist? Had he not discovered
and handed over the Hollow Needle? What did he care about the rest?
Had he not the right to humor the irresistible sympathy with which,
in spite of everything, this man inspired him?
The feeling was so clear in him that he was half inclined to say to
Lupin:
"Look here, you're running another, a more serious danger; Holmlock
Shears is on your track."
"Come along!" said Lupin, before Isidore had made up his mind to
speak.
He obeyed and let Lupin lead him to the boat, the shape of which
struck him as peculiar and its appearance quite unexpected.
Once on deck, they went down a little steep staircase, or rather a
ladder hooked on to a trap door, which closed above their heads. At
the foot of the ladder, brightly lit by a lamp, was a very small
saloon, where Raymonde was waiting for them and where the three had
just room to sit down.
Lupin took the mouthpiece of a speaking tube from a hook and gave
the order:
"Let her go, Charolais!"
Isidore had the unpleasant sensation which one feels when going down
in a lift: the sensation of the ground vanishing beneath you, the
impression of emptiness, space. This time, it was the water
retreating; and space opened out, slowly.
"We're sinking, eh?" grinned Lupin. "Don't be afraid--we've only to
pass from the upper cave where we were to another little cave,
situated right at the bottom and half open to the sea, which can be
entered at low tide. All the shellfish-catchers know it. Ah, ten
seconds' wait! We're going through the passage and it's very narrow,
just the size of the submarine."
"But," asked Beautrelet, "how is it that the fishermen who enter the
lower cave don't know that it's open at the top and that it
communicates with another from which a staircase starts and runs
through the Needle? The facts are at the disposal of the first-
comer."
"Wrong, Beautrelet! The top of the little public cave is closed, at
low tide, by a movable platform, painted the color of the rock,
which the sea, when it rises, shifts and carries up with it and,
when it goes down, fastens firmly over the little cave. That is why
I am able to pass at high tide. A clever notion, what? It's an idea
of my own. True, neither Caesar nor Louis XIV., nor, in short, any
of my distinguished predecessors could have had it, because they did
not possess submarines. They were satisfied with the staircase,
which then ran all the way down to the little bottom cave. I did
away with the last treads of the staircase and invented the trick of
the movable ceiling: it's a present I'm making to France--Raymonde,
my love, put out the lamp beside you--we shan't want it now--on the
contrary--"
A pale light, which seemed to be of the same color as the water, met
them as they left the cave and made its way into the cabin through
the two portholes and through a thick glass skylight that projected
above the planking of the deck and allowed the passengers to inspect
the upper layers of the sea. And, suddenly, a shadow glided over
their heads.
"The attack is about to take place. The fleet is investing the
Needle. But, hollow as the Needle is, I don't see how they propose
to enter it."
He took up the speaking tube:
"Don't leave the bottom, Charolais. Where are we going? Why, I told
you: to Port-Lupin. And at full speed, do you hear? We want water to
land by--there's a lady with us."
They skimmed over the rocky bed. The seaweed stood up on end like a
heavy, dark vegetation and the deep currents made it wave
gracefully, stretching and billowing like floating hair.
Another shadow, a longer one.
"That's the torpedo-boat," said Lupin. "We shall hear the roar of
the guns presently. What will Duguay-Trouin do? Bombard the Needle?
Think of what we're missing, Beautrelet, by not being present at the
meeting of Duguay-Trouin and Ganimard! The juncture of the land and
naval forces! Hi, Charolais, don't go to sleep, my man!"
They were moving very fast, for all that. The rocks had been
succeeded by sand-fields and then, almost at once, they saw more
rocks, which marked the eastern extremity of Etretat, the Porte
d'Amont. Fish fled at their approach. One of them, bolder than the
rest, fastened on to a porthole and looked at the occupants of the
saloon with its great, fixed, staring eyes.
"That's better," cried Lupin. "We're going now. What do you think of
my cockle-shell, Beautrelet? Not so bad, is she? Do you remember the
story of the Seven of Hearts, [Footnote: The Exploits of Arsene
Lupin. By Maurice Leblanc. VI: The Seven of Hearts.] the wretched
end of Lacombe, the engineer, and how, after punishing his
murderers, I presented the State with his papers and his plans for
the construction of a new submarine: one more gift to France? Well,
among the plans, I kept those of a submersible motor boat and that
is how you come to have the honor of sailing in my company."
He called to Charolais:
"Take us up, Charolais--there's no danger now--"
They shot up to the surface and the glass skylight emerged above the
water.
They were a mile from the coast, out of sight, therefore, and
Beautrelet was now able to realize more fully at what a headlong
pace they were traveling. First Fecamp passed before them, then all
the Norman seaside places: Saint-Pierre, the Petits--Dalles,
Veulettes, Saint-Yalery, Veules, Quiberville. Lupin kept on jesting
and Isidore never wearied of watching and listening to him, amazed
as he was at the man's spirits, at his gaiety, his mischievous ways,
his careless chaff, his delight in life.
He also noticed Raymonde. The young woman sat silent, nestling up
against the man she loved. She had taken his hands between her own
and kept on raising her eyes to him; and Beautrelet constantly
observed that her hands were twitching and that the wistful sadness
of her eyes increased. And, each time, it was like a dumb and
sorrowful reply to Lupin's sallies. One would have thought that his
frivolous words, his sarcastic outlook on life, caused her physical
pain.
"Hush!" she whispered. "It's defying destiny to laugh--so many
misfortunes can reach us still!"
Opposite Dieppe, they had to dive lest they should be seen by the
fishing-craft. And twenty minutes later, they shot at an angle
toward the coast and the boat entered a little submarine harbor
formed by a regular gap between the rocks, drew up beside a jetty
and rose gently to the surface.
Lupin announced:
"Port-Lupin!"
The spot, situated at sixteen miles from Dieppe and twelve from the
Treport and protected, moreover, by the two landslips of cliff, was
absolutely deserted. A fine sand carpeted the rounded slope of the
tiny beach.
"Jump on shore, Beautrelet--Raymonde, give me your hand. You,
Charolais, go back to the Needle, see what happens between Ganimard
and Duguay-Trouin and come back and tell me at the end of the day.
The thing interests me tremendously."
Beautrelet asked himself with a certain curiosity how they were
going to get out of this hemmed-in creek which was called Port-
Lupin, when, at the foot of the cliff, he saw the uprights of an
iron ladder.
"Isidore," said Lupin, "if you knew your geography and your history,
you would know that we are at the bottom of the gorge of Parfonval,
in the parish of Biville. More than a century ago, on the night of
the twenty-third of August, 1803, Georges Cadoudal and six
accomplices, who had landed in France with the intention of
kidnapping the first consul, Bonaparte, scrambled up to the top by
the road which I will show you. Since then, this road has been
demolished by landslips. But Louis Valmeras, better known by the
name of Arsene Lupin, had it restored at his own expense and bought
the farm of the Neuvillette, where the conspirators spent the first
night and where, retired from business and withdrawing from the
affairs of this world, he means to lead the life of a respectable
country squire with his wife and his mother by his side. The
gentleman-burglar is dead! Long live the gentleman-farmer!"
After the ladder came a sort of gully, an abrupt ravine hollowed
out, apparently, by the rains, at the end of which they laid hold of
a makeshift staircase furnished with a hand-rail. As Lupin
explained, this hand-rail had been placed where it was in the stead
of the estamperche, a long rope fastened to stakes, by which the
people of the country, in the old days, used to help themselves down
when going to the beach.
After a painful climb of half an hour, they emerged on the
tableland, not far from one of those little cabins, dug out of the
soil itself, which serve as shelters for the excisemen. And, as it
happened, two minutes later, at a turn in the path, one of these
custom-house officials appeared.
He drew himself up and saluted.
Lupin asked:
"Any news, Gomel?"
"No, governor."
"You've met no one at all suspicious-looking?"
"No, governor--only--"
"What?"
"My wife--who does dressmaking at the Neuvillette--"
"Yes, I know--Cesarine--my mother spoke of her. Well?"
"It seems a sailor was prowling about the village this morning."
"What sort of face had he?"
"Not a natural face--a sort of Englishman's face."
"Ah!" said Lupin, in a tone preoccupied. "And you have given
Cesarine orders--"
"To keep her eyes open. Yes, governor."
"Very well. Keep a lookout for Charolais's return in two or three
hours from now. If there's anything, I shall be at the farm."
He walked on and said to Beautrelet:
"This makes me uneasy--is it Shears? Ah, if it's he, in his present
state of exasperation, I have everything to fear!"
He hesitated a moment: "I wonder if we hadn't better turn back. Yes,
I have a nasty presentiment of evil."
Gently undulating plains stretched before them as far as the eye
could see. A little to the left, a series of handsome avenues of
trees led to the farm of the Neuvillette, the buildings of which
were now in view. It was the retreat which he had prepared, the
haven of rest which he had promised Raymonde. Was he, for the sake
of an absurd idea, to renounce happiness at the very moment when it
seemed within his reach?
He took Isidore by the arm and, calling his attention to Raymonde,
who was walking in front of them:
"Look at her. When she walks, her figure has a little swing at the
waist which I cannot see without quivering. But everything in her
gives me that thrill of emotion and love: her movements and her
repose, her silence and the sound of her voice. I tell you, the mere
fact that I am walking in the track of her footsteps makes me feel
in the seventh heaven. Ah, Beautrelet, will she ever forget that I
was once Lupin? Shall I ever be able to wipe out from her memory the
past which she loathes and detests?" He mastered himself and, with
obstinate assurance. "She will forget!" he declared. "She will
forget, because I have made every sacrifice for her sake. I have
sacrificed the inviolable sanctuary of the Hollow Needle, I have
sacrificed my treasures, my power, my pride--I will sacrifice
everything--I don't want to be anything more--but just a man in
love--and an honest man, because she can only love an honest man.
After all, why should I not be honest? It is no more degrading than
anything else!"
The quip escaped him, so to speak, unawares. His voice remained
serious and free of all chaff. And he muttered, with restrained
violence:
"Ah, Beautrelet, you see, of all the unbridled joys which I have
tasted in my adventurous life, there is not one that equals the joy
with which her look fills me when she is pleased with me. I feel
quite weak then, and I should like to cry--" Was he crying?
Beautrelet had an intuition that his eyes were wet with tears. Tears
in Lupin's eyes!--Tears of love!
They were nearing an old gate that served as an entrance to the
farm. Lupin stopped for a moment and stammered:
"Why am I afraid?--I feel a sort of weight on my chest. Is the
adventure of the Hollow Needle not over? Has destiny not accepted
the issue which I selected?"
Raymonde turned round, looking very anxious.
"Here comes Cesarine. She's running."
The exciseman's wife was hurrying from the farm as fast as she
could. Lupin rushed up to her:
"What is it? What has happened? Speak!"
Choking, quite out of breath, Cesarine stuttered:
"A man--I saw a man this morning!
"A man--I saw a man in the sitting-room."
"The Englishman of this morning?"
"Yes--but in a different disguise."
"Did he see you?"
"No. He saw your mother. Mme. Valmeras caught him as he was just
going away."
"Well?"
"He told her that he was looking for Louis Valmeras, that he was a
friend of yours."
"Then?"
"The madame said that her son had gone abroad--for years."
"And he went away?"
"No, he made signs through the window that overlooks the plain--as
if he were calling to some one."
Lupin seemed to hesitate. A loud cry tore the air. Raymonde moaned:
"It's your mother--I recognize--"
He flung himself upon her and, dragging her away, in a burst of
fierce passion:
"Come--let us fly--you first."
But, suddenly, he stopped, distraught, overcome:
"No, I can't do it--it's too awful. Forgive me--Raymonde--that poor
woman down there--Stay here. Beautrelet, don't leave her."
He darted along the slope that surrounds the farm, turned and
followed it, at a run, till he came to the gate that opens on the
plain.
Raymonde, whom Beautrelet had been unable to hold back, arrived
almost as soon as he did; and Beautrelet, hiding behind the trees,
saw, in the lonely walk that led from the farm to the gate, three
men, of whom one, the tallest, went ahead, while the two others were
holding by the arms a woman who tried to resist and who uttered
moans of pain.
The daylight was beginning to fade. Nevertheless, Beautrelet
recognized Holmlock Shears. The woman seemed of a certain age. Her
livid features were set in a frame of white hair.
They all four came up.
They reached the gate. Shears opened one of the folding leaves.
Then Lupin strode forward and stood in front of him.
The encounter appeared all the more terrible inasmuch as it was
silent, almost solemn.
For long moments, the two enemies took each other's measure with
their eyes. An equal hatred distorted the features of both of them.
Neither moved.
Then Lupin spoke, in a voice of terrifying calmness:
"Tell your men to leave that woman alone."
"No."
It was as though both of them feared to engage in the supreme
struggle, as though both were collecting all their strength. And
there were no words wasted this time, no insults, no bantering
challenges. Silence, a deathlike silence.
Mad with anguish, Raymonde awaited the issue of the duel. Beautrelet
had caught her arms and was holding her motionless.
After a second, Lupin repeated:
"Order your men to leave that woman alone."
"No."
Lupin said:
"Listen, Shears--"
But he interrupted himself, realizing the silliness of the words. In
the face of that colossus of pride and will-power which called
itself Holmlock Shears, of what use were threats?
Resolved upon the worst, suddenly he put his hand to his jacket
pocket. The Englishman anticipated his movement and, leaping upon
his prisoner, thrust the barrel of his revolver within two inches of
her temple:
"If you stir a limb, I fire!"
At the same time his two satellites drew their weapons and aimed
them at Lupin.
Lupin drew himself up, stifled the rage within him and, coolly, with
his hands in his pockets and his breast exposed to the enemy, began
once more:
"Shears, for the third time, let that woman be--"
The Englishman sneered:
"I have no right to touch her, I suppose? Come, come, enough of this
humbug! Your name isn't Valmeras any more than it's Lupin: you stole
the name just as you stole the name of Charmerace. And the woman
whom you pass off as your mother is Victoire, your old accomplice,
the one who brought you up--" [FOOTNOTE: Arsene Lupin, play in four
acts, by Maurice Leblanc and Francis de Croisset.]
Shears made a mistake. Carried away by his longing for revenge, he
glanced across at Raymonde, whom these revelations filled with
horror. Lupin took advantage of his imprudence. With a sudden
movement, he fired.
"Damnation!" bellowed Shears, whose arm, pierced by a bullet, fell
to his side. And, addressing his men, "Shoot, you two! Shoot him
down!"
But already Lupin was upon them: and not two seconds had elapsed
before the one on the right was sprawling on the ground, with his
chest smashed, while the other, with his jaw broken, fell back
against the gate.
"Hurry up, Victoire. Tie them down. And now, Mr. Englishman, it's
you and I."
He ducked with an oath:
"Ah, you scoundrel!"
Shears had picked up his revolver with his left hand and was taking
aim at him.
A shot--a cry of distress--Raymonde had flung herself between the
two men, facing the Englishman. She staggered back, brought her hand
to her neck, drew herself up, spun round on her heels and fell at
Lupin's feet.
"Raymonde!--Raymonde!"
He threw himself upon her, took her in his arms and pressed her to
him.
"Dead--" he said.
There was a moment of stupefaction. Shears seemed confounded by his
own act. Victoire stammered:
"My poor boy--my poor boy--"
Beautrelet went up to the young woman and stooped to examine her.
Lupin repeated:
"Dead--dead--"
He said it in a reflective tone, as though he did not yet
understand. But his face became hollow, suddenly transformed,
ravaged by grief. And then he was seized with a sort of madness,
made senseless gestures, wrung his hands, stamped his feet, like a
child that suffers more than it is able to bear.
"You villain!" he cried, suddenly, in an access of hatred.
And, flinging Shears back with a formidable blow, he took him by the
throat and dug his twitching fingers into his flesh.
The Englishman gasped, without even struggling.
"My boy-my boy--"said Victoire, in a voice of entreaty.
Beautrelet ran up. But Lupin had already let go and stood sobbing
beside his enemy stretched upon the ground.
O pitiful sight! Beautrelet never forgot its tragic horror, he who
knew all Lupin's love for Raymonde and all that the great adventurer
had sacrificed of his own being to bring a smile to the face of his
well-beloved.
Night began to cover the field of battle with a shroud of darkness.
The three Englishmen lay bound and gagged in the tall grass. Distant
songs broke the vast silence of the plain. It was the farm-hands
returning from their work.
Lupin drew himself up. He listened to the monotonous voices. Then he
glanced at the happy homestead of the Neuvillette, where he had
hoped to live peacefully with Raymonde. Then he looked at her, the
poor, loving victim, whom love had killed and who, all white, was
sleeping her last, eternal sleep.
The men were coming nearer, however.
Then Lupin bent down, took the dead woman in his powerful arms,
lifted the corpse with a single effort and, bent in two, stretched
it across his back:
"Let us go, Victoire."
"Let us go, dear."
"Good-bye, Beautrelet," he said.
And, bearing his precious and awful burden followed by his old
servant, silent and fierce he turned toward the sea and plunged into
the darkness of the night.
THE END
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