Read Online Arsène Lupin versus Herlock Sholmes by Maurice Leblanc - Free Book Online Page B

Lupin.
    “Through taste, faith, or habit?”
    “Hygiene.”
    “And do you never fall from grace?”
    “Oh! Yes … when I am dining out … and wish to avoid being considered eccentric.”
    We were dining near the Northern Railway station, in a little restaurant to which Arsène Lupin had invited me. Frequently he would send me a telegram asking me to meet him in some obscure restaurant, where we could enjoy a quiet dinner, well served, and which was always made interesting to me by his recital of some startling adventure theretofore unknown to me.
    On that particular evening he appeared to be in a more lively mood than usual. He laughed and joked with careless animation, and with that delicate sarcasm that was habitual with him—a light and spontaneous sarcasm that was quite free from any tinge of malice. It was a pleasure to find him in that jovial mood, and I could not resist the desire to tell him so.
    “Ah! Yes,” he exclaimed, “there are days in which I find life as bright and gay as a spring morning; then life seems to be an infinite treasure which I can never exhaust. And yet God knows I lead a careless existence!”
    “Too much so, perhaps.”
    “Ah! But I tell you, the treasure is infinite. I can spend it with a lavish hand. I can cast my youth and strength to the four winds of Heaven, and it is replaced by a still younger and greater force. Besides, my life is so pleasant! … If I wished to do so, I might become—what shall I say? … An orator, a manufacturer, a politician … But, I assure you, I shall never have such a desire. Arsène Lupin, I am; Arsène Lupin, I shall remain. I have made a vain search in history to find a career comparable to mine; a life better filled or more intense … Napoleon? Yes, perhaps … But Napoleon, toward the close of his career, when all Europe was trying to crush him, asked himself on the eve of each battle if it would not be his last.”
    Was he serious? Or was he joking? He became more animated as he proceeded:
    “That is everything, do you understand, the danger! The continuous feeling of danger! To breathe it as you breathe the air, to scent it in every breath of wind, to detect it in every unusual sound … And, in the midst of the tempest, to remain calm … and not to stumble! Otherwise, you are lost. There is only one sensation equal to it: that of the chauffeur in an automobile race. But that race lasts only a few hours; my race continues until death!”
    “What fantasy!” I exclaimed. “And you wish me to believe that you have no particular motive for your adoption of that exciting life?”
    “Come,” he said, with a smile, “you are a clever psychologist. Work it out for yourself.”
    He poured himself a glass of water, drank it, and said: “Did you read  ’Le Temps’  to-day?”
    “No.”
    “Herlock Sholmes crossed the Channel this afternoon, and arrived in Paris about six o’clock.”
    “The deuce! What is he coming for?”
    “A little journey he has undertaken at the request of the Count and Countess of Crozon, Monsieur Gerbois, and the nephew of Baron d’Hautrec. They met him at the Northern Railway station, took him to meet Ganimard, and, at this moment, the six of them are holding a consultation.”
    Despite a strong temptation to do so, I had never ventured to question Arsène Lupin concerning any action of his private life, unless he had first mentioned the subject to me. Up to that moment his name had not been mentioned, at least officially, in connection with the blue diamond. Consequently, I consumed my curiosity in patience. He continued:
    “There is also in  ’Le Temps’  an interview with my old friend Ganimard, according to whom a certain blonde lady, who should be my friend, must have murdered the Baron d’Hautrec and tried to rob Madame de Crozon of her famous ring. And—what do you think?—he accuses me of being the instigator of those crimes.”
    I could not suppress a slight shudder. Was this true? Must I