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Authors: Maurice Leblanc
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sheets of paper. Then he said:
“I have, on these four pieces of paper, various specimens of handwriting; the first is the writing of Antoinette Bréhat; the second was written by the woman who sent the note to Baron Herschmann at the auction sale of the blue diamond; the third is that of Madame de Réal, written while she was stopping at the Château de Crozon; and the fourth is your handwriting, madame … it is your name and address, which you gave to the porter of the Hôtel Beaurivage at Trouville. Now, compare the four handwritings. They are identical.”
“What absurdity is this? Really, monsieur, I do not understand. What does it mean?”
“It means, madame,” exclaimed Ganimard, “that the Blonde Lady, the friend and accomplice of Arsène Lupin, is none other than you, Madame Réal.”
Ganimard went to the adjoining room and returned with Mon. Gerbois, whom he placed in front of Madame Réal, as he said:
“Monsieur Gerbois, is this the person who abducted your daughter, the woman you saw at the house of Monsieur Detinan?”
“No.”
Ganimard was so surprised that he could not speak for a moment; finally, he said: “No? … You must be mistaken. … ”
“I am not mistaken. Madame is blonde, it is true, and in that respect resembles the Blonde Lady; but, in all other respects, she is totally different.”
“I can’t believe it. You must be mistaken.”
Ganimard called in his other witnesses.
“Monsieur d’Hautrec,” he said, “do you recognize Antoinette Bréhat?”
“No, this is not the person I saw at my uncle’s house.”
“This woman is not Madame de Réal,” declared the Count de Crozon.
That was the finishing touch. Ganimard was crushed. He was buried beneath the ruins of the structure he had erected with so much care and assurance. His pride was humbled, his spirit was broken, by the force of this unexpected blow.
Mon. Dudouis arose, and said:
“We owe you an apology, madame, for this unfortunate mistake. But, since your arrival here, I have noticed your nervous agitation. Something troubles you; may I ask what it is?”
“Mon Dieu, monsieur, I was afraid. My satchel contains diamonds to the value of a hundred thousand francs, and the conduct of your friend was rather suspicious.”
“But you were frequently absent from Paris. How do you explain that?”
“I make frequent journeys to other cities in the course of my business. That is all.”
Mon. Dudouis had nothing more to ask. He turned to his subordinate, and said:
“Your investigation has been very superficial, Ganimard, and your conduct toward this lady is really deplorable. You will come to my office to-morrow and explain it.”
The interview was at an end, and Mon. Dudouis was about to leave the room when a most annoying incident occurred. Madame Réal turned to Ganimard, and said:
“I understand that you are Monsieur Ganimard. Am I right?”
“Yes.”
“Then, this letter must be for you. I received it this morning. It was addressed to ‘Mon. Justin Ganimard, care of Madame Réal.’ I thought it was a joke, because I did not know you under that name, but it appears that your unknown correspondent knew of our rendezvous.”
Ganimard was inclined to put the letter in his pocket unread, but he dared not do so in the presence of his superior, so he opened the envelope and read the letter aloud, in an almost inaudible tone:
“Once upon a time, there were a Blonde Lady, a Lupin, and a Ganimard. Now, the wicked Ganimard had evil designs on the pretty Blonde Lady, and the good Lupin was her friend and protector. When the good Lupin wished the Blonde Lady to become the friend of the Countess de Crozon, he caused her to assume the name of Madame de Réal, which is a close resemblance to the name of a certain diamond broker, a woman with a pale complexion and golden hair. And the good Lupin said to himself: If ever the wicked Ganimard gets upon the track of the Blonde Lady, how useful it will be to me if he
“I have, on these four pieces of paper, various specimens of handwriting; the first is the writing of Antoinette Bréhat; the second was written by the woman who sent the note to Baron Herschmann at the auction sale of the blue diamond; the third is that of Madame de Réal, written while she was stopping at the Château de Crozon; and the fourth is your handwriting, madame … it is your name and address, which you gave to the porter of the Hôtel Beaurivage at Trouville. Now, compare the four handwritings. They are identical.”
“What absurdity is this? Really, monsieur, I do not understand. What does it mean?”
“It means, madame,” exclaimed Ganimard, “that the Blonde Lady, the friend and accomplice of Arsène Lupin, is none other than you, Madame Réal.”
Ganimard went to the adjoining room and returned with Mon. Gerbois, whom he placed in front of Madame Réal, as he said:
“Monsieur Gerbois, is this the person who abducted your daughter, the woman you saw at the house of Monsieur Detinan?”
“No.”
Ganimard was so surprised that he could not speak for a moment; finally, he said: “No? … You must be mistaken. … ”
“I am not mistaken. Madame is blonde, it is true, and in that respect resembles the Blonde Lady; but, in all other respects, she is totally different.”
“I can’t believe it. You must be mistaken.”
Ganimard called in his other witnesses.
“Monsieur d’Hautrec,” he said, “do you recognize Antoinette Bréhat?”
“No, this is not the person I saw at my uncle’s house.”
“This woman is not Madame de Réal,” declared the Count de Crozon.
That was the finishing touch. Ganimard was crushed. He was buried beneath the ruins of the structure he had erected with so much care and assurance. His pride was humbled, his spirit was broken, by the force of this unexpected blow.
Mon. Dudouis arose, and said:
“We owe you an apology, madame, for this unfortunate mistake. But, since your arrival here, I have noticed your nervous agitation. Something troubles you; may I ask what it is?”
“Mon Dieu, monsieur, I was afraid. My satchel contains diamonds to the value of a hundred thousand francs, and the conduct of your friend was rather suspicious.”
“But you were frequently absent from Paris. How do you explain that?”
“I make frequent journeys to other cities in the course of my business. That is all.”
Mon. Dudouis had nothing more to ask. He turned to his subordinate, and said:
“Your investigation has been very superficial, Ganimard, and your conduct toward this lady is really deplorable. You will come to my office to-morrow and explain it.”
The interview was at an end, and Mon. Dudouis was about to leave the room when a most annoying incident occurred. Madame Réal turned to Ganimard, and said:
“I understand that you are Monsieur Ganimard. Am I right?”
“Yes.”
“Then, this letter must be for you. I received it this morning. It was addressed to ‘Mon. Justin Ganimard, care of Madame Réal.’ I thought it was a joke, because I did not know you under that name, but it appears that your unknown correspondent knew of our rendezvous.”
Ganimard was inclined to put the letter in his pocket unread, but he dared not do so in the presence of his superior, so he opened the envelope and read the letter aloud, in an almost inaudible tone:
“Once upon a time, there were a Blonde Lady, a Lupin, and a Ganimard. Now, the wicked Ganimard had evil designs on the pretty Blonde Lady, and the good Lupin was her friend and protector. When the good Lupin wished the Blonde Lady to become the friend of the Countess de Crozon, he caused her to assume the name of Madame de Réal, which is a close resemblance to the name of a certain diamond broker, a woman with a pale complexion and golden hair. And the good Lupin said to himself: If ever the wicked Ganimard gets upon the track of the Blonde Lady, how useful it will be to me if he
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