“More and more,” asserted Lupin.

  “For reasons of taste, belief, or just out of habit?”

  “For health reasons.”

  “And you never break the rule?”

  “Oh, yes! When I am in society… so as not to draw attention to myself.”

  We were dining together near the Gare du Nord, at the back of a small restaurant where Arsène Lupin had asked me to meet him. He liked from time to time to arrange a meeting with me by telephone in this way in some corner of Paris. He always proved to be inexhaustibly eloquent, full of the joys of life, unaffected and easy-going, and he always came out with an unexpected anecdote, a memory or an account of an adventure which I did not know.

  That evening he seemed to me to be even more exuberant than usual. He laughed and chatted with a strange liveliness and that fine irony which is peculiar to him, a light and spontaneous irony with no trace of bitterness. It was a pleasure to see him like that, and I could not refrain from expressing my satisfaction.

  “Ah, yes!” he exclaimed. “I’m enjoying some of those days on which everything seems to be delightful, and I feel that I am full of the joy of life, as though I have an infinite treasure within me which I shall never exhaust. Yet, God knows, I live without counting the cost.”

  “Too much so, perhaps.”

  “The treasure is infinite, I tell you! I can exert myself and waste my time, I can cast my strength and youth to the four winds, and I am making space for even livelier and more youthful strength… And my life is really so beautiful! I only have to wish, don’t I, to become, from one day to the next, I don’t know!… a public speaker, a factory boss, a man of politics… Well, I swear to you, that such an idea would never occur to me! Arsène Lupin I am, and Arsène Lupin I shall remain. And I search through history in vain for a destiny comparable to mine, more fulfilled and more intense… Napoleon? Yes, perhaps… but Napoleon at the end of his career, during the French campaign, when Europe was crushing him, and when he asked himself, at every battle, if it would not be the last that he would fight.”

  Was he serious? Was he joking? The tone of his voice had become heated, and he continued:

  “It’s all there, you see: the danger, the continuous sensation of danger! To breathe it like the air we breathe, to discern it around you, blowing and roaring, watching out for you, approaching you… And to remain calm in the midst of the storm… without turning a hair!… Otherwise you are lost… There is only one feeling which is as good as it, that of a driver racing in a car! However a race lasts just one morning, but my race lasts for a lifetime!”

  “What lyricism!” I exclaimed… “And you want me to believe that you don’t have any special grounds for being excited?”

  He smiled.

  “Well,” he said, “you’re a shrewd psychologist. There is indeed something else.”

  He poured himself a large glass of fresh water, swallowed it and said to me:

  “Did you read today’s Le Temps?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Herlock Sholmes was due to cross the English Channel this afternoon and arrive around six o’clock.”

  “What the devil for?”

  “A little trip funded by the Crozons, the nephew of d’Hautrec, and Gerbois. They met at the Gare du Nord, and from there they went to meet Ganimard. All six of them are conferring at this moment.”

  Despite the enormous curiosity that he inspires in me, I have never allowed myself to ask Arsène Lupin about events in his private life, before he himself mentioned them to me. In such matters it is, for my part, a question of reserve on which I will not compromise. Besides, at that moment, his name had not yet been mentioned, at least officially, in connection with the matter of the blue diamond. So I waited. He continued:

  “Le Temps has also published an interview with that excellent man Ganimard, according to which a certain blonde woman, said to be my friend, is assumed to have murdered Baron d’Hautrec, and tried to steal Mme de Crozon’s famous ring. And naturally he accuses me of having instigated these infamies.”

  A light shudder went through me. Was it true? Was I to believe that the habit of stealing, his mode of existence, the very logic of events, had led this man to such a grievous crime? I looked at him. He seemed so calm, and his eyes looked at you in such a frank way!

  I examined his hands: their shape was infinitely delicate. His hands were truly harmless, the hands of an artist…

  “Ganimard is a crank,” I murmured.

  He protested:

  “No, no he isn’t. Ganimard is perceptive, sometimes even brilliant.”

  “Brilliant?”

  “Oh yes. This interview is a masterstroke. First he announces the arrival of his English rival, to put me on my guard and make the task more difficult for him. Then he specifies the precise stage to which he has brought the case, so that Sholmes only has the benefit of these discoveries. It’s only fair.”

  “Be that as it may, you now have to deal with two opponents, and what opponents they are!”

  “Oh, one of them doesn’t count.”

  “And the other?”

  “Sholmes? Oh, I confess that he’s a worthy opponent. But that’s just what fascinates me and why you see me in such a cheerful mood. First, it’s a question of pride: they consider that it’s not too much to expect the famous Englishman to get the better of me. Secondly, think of the pleasure which a combatant like me must experience at the idea of a duel with Herlock Sholmes. Finally, I shall be obliged to apply myself to the task wholeheartedly, for I know this gentleman: he will stick to my heels like glue.”

  “He’s good.”

  “Oh, very good. As a detective, I don’t think there has ever existed or ever will exist anyone like him. But I do have one advantage over him: it’s he who’s attacking and me who’s defending. My role is easier. What is more…”

  He smiled imperceptibly and finished what he was saying:

  “What is more, I know his way of fighting and he doesn’t know mine. And I’m keeping some secret weapons which will give him cause for thought…”

  He made little taps on the table with his fingers, and uttered short phrases in delight:

  “Arsène Lupin versus Herlock Sholmes… France versus England… At last Trafalgar will be revenged!… Oh, the poor man… he has no idea what I am preparing… and a Lupin forewarned—”

  He interrupted himself suddenly, shaken by a coughing fit, and he hid his face in his napkin, like someone who has swallowed something the wrong way.

  “A breadcrumb?” I asked him. “Drink a little water.”

  “No, it’s not that,” he said, in a choked voice.

  “Then what is it?”

  “I need some air.”

  “Do you want the window opened?”

  “No, I’m going. Quick, give me my overcoat and my hat. I’m off…”

  “Very well, but, what’s it all about?”

  “Those two gentlemen who have just come in… you see the tallest one?… Well, as we go out, walk on my left so that he won’t catch sight of me.”

  “The one who’s sitting down behind you?”

  “Yes him… For personal reasons, I prefer… I’ll explain to you outside…

  “But who is it then?”

  “Herlock Sholmes.”

  He made a strenuous effort to control himself, as if he was ashamed of his agitation, put down his napkin, swallowed a glass of water and said to me with a smile, now completely recovered:

  “It’s funny isn’t it? It’s true I’m not easily bothered, but that unexpected sight…”

  “What are you afraid of, since no one can recognize you, due to all your transformations? Even to me, each time I meet you again, it seems that I’m face to face with a new individual.”

  “He will recognize me. He only saw me once,1 but I sensed that when he saw me it was for life, and that he saw not my always modifiable outward appearance but my innermost being… and then… and then… I wasn’t expecting it in this place!… What a strange encounter!… This little restaurant.”

  “So,” I said to him, “are we going?”

  “No… no…”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “The best thing to do would be to act boldly, to go up to him.”

  “You’re surely not thinking of doing that?”

  “Yes indeed… What is more, I’d be better off questioning him, to find out what he knows… Ah, wait! I have the feeling that his gaze is fixed on the nape of my neck, on my shoulders… and that he is searching… that he is remembering…”

  He thought it over. I noticed a malicious smile at the corner of his lips, then, obeying a whim of his impulsive nature rather than what was necessary in the situation, he got up suddenly, spun round and, leaning forward, said very cheerfully:

  “What a coincidence! It’s really a stroke of luck… Permit me to introduce you to one of my friends.”

  For a second or two, the Englishman was disconcerted, then he made an instinctive movement, ready to leap at Arsène Lupin, who just shook his head and said:

  “That would be wrong… and what is more, the move would not be a dignified one… and so pointless!”

  The Englishman turned right and left, as though seeking help.

  “And that would be no better…” said Lupin. “Besides, are you sure that you have the authority to lay hands on me? Come on, show yourself to be a good sport.”

  To show himself to be a good sport was scarcely tempting on this occasion. Nevertheless, it is likely that it was this option which seemed the best to the Englishman, for he got up partly and coolly made an introduction:

  “Mr Wilson, my friend and collaborator – Monsieur Arsène Lupin.”

  Wilson’s bewilderment provoked hilarity. His wide-open eyes and large, gaping mouth were the two prominent features on his beaming face, with his shining skin, tight as that of an apple, around which his crew cut and short beard were planted like blades of thick, strong grass.

  “Wilson, you are not hiding sufficiently your astonishment in face of the most natural events in the world,” chuckled Herlock Sholmes, with a touch of mockery.

  Wilson mumbled:

  “Why don’t you stop him?”

  “You haven’t noticed, Wilson, that the gentleman has placed himself between the door and me, and is two feet away from the door. Before I had time to move my little finger he would already be outside.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Lupin.

  He moved round the table and sat down, so that the Englishman was between the door and himself. He was thereby leaving it up to the other man.

  Wilson looked at Sholmes to find out if it was all right to admire this bold move. The Englishman remained inscrutable. But, after a moment, he called out:

  “Waiter!”

  The waiter ran to them. Sholmes ordered:

  “Some soda waters, beer and whisky.”

  Peace had been signed… until further notice. Soon after, all four of us were sitting at the same table, chatting away happily.

  Herlock Sholmes is a man such as one might meet any day. About fifty years old, he resembles a decent middle-class person, who might have spent his life behind a desk, attending to his account books. Nothing distinguishes him from any honest citizen of London, neither his reddish-coloured sideburns, nor his shaven chin, nor his rather heavy-looking appearance, nothing if it were not for his extremely keen, lively and penetrating eyes.

  And then of course he was Herlock Sholmes, that is to say a man of phenomenal intuition, observation, perception and ingenuity. One might well think that Nature had amused herself by taking the two most extraordinary types of detective that the imagination has produced, Edgar Allan Poe’s Dupin and Lecoq’s Gaboriau, to create one which is, in his way, even more extraordinary and unreal. And one really does ask oneself, when one hears accounts of the exploits which have made him universally famous, if this Herlock Sholmes isn’t a legendary figure, a hero who has emerged alive from the mind of a great novelist such as Conan Doyle, for example.

  Straight away, when Arsène Lupin asked him how long he would be staying, he brought the conversation back to its true subject:

  “My stay depends on you, Monsieur Lupin.”

  “Oh!” exclaimed the other, laughing. “If it really depended on me, then I would beg you to take the ship back tonight.”

  “This evening is a little early, but I hope that in about eight or ten days…”

  “You’re in such a hurry then?”

  “I’m busy with so many things, the robbery at the Anglo-Chinese Bank, the kidnapping of Lady Eccleston… So, let me see now, Monsieur Lupin, do you think that one week will be long enough?”

  “More than enough, if you restrict yourself to the double case of the blue diamond. And besides, it’s the period of time I’ll need to take my precautions, in case the resolution of this double case provides you with certain advantages which would be dangerous for my security.”

  “But,” said the Englishman, “I’m counting on obtaining these advantages within eight to ten days.”

  “So that you can arrest me on the eleventh day, perhaps?”

  “On the tenth, at the latest.”

  Lupin thought the matter over and shook his head:

  “Difficult… difficult…”

  “Difficult, yes, but possible, indeed certain…”

  “Absolutely certain,” said Wilson, as if he discerned clearly himself the long series of operations which would lead his collaborator to the outcome he had announced.

  Herlock Sholmes smiled:

  “Wilson, who knows all about such things, is here to testify to these facts.”

  And he continued:

  “Of course, I haven’t got all the trumps in my hands, since it concerns cases which are already several months old. I lack certain components, clues, on which I usually base my inquiries.

  “Such as mud stains and cigarette ash,” Wilson explained with an air of self-importance.

  “But in addition to Ganimard’s remarkable conclusions, I have at my disposal all the articles written on the topic, all the observations gathered and, as a consequence of all this, a few ideas of my own on the case.”

  “Several perspectives which have been suggested to us, either through analysis or through hypotheses,” said Wilson sententiously.

  “Would it be indiscreet,” said Arsène Lupin, in the deferential tone he employed when talking to Sholmes, “to ask you about the general opinion that you have been able to form?”

  It was truly the most fascinating thing to see, those two men in each other’s presence, their elbows on the table, discussing seriously and calmly, as if they were trying to resolve an arduous problem, or to come to an agreement on a controversial point. And it was all done with supreme irony, which they both enjoyed profoundly, as both amateurs and artistes. Wilson was swooning with pleasure.

  Herlock slowly filled his pipe, lit it and spoke as follows:

  “I estimate that this case is infinitely less complex than it appears at first sight.”

  “Much less indeed,” said Wilson, his faithful echo.

  “I say case, because for me there is only one. The death of Baron d’Hautrec, the story of the ring and, let us not forget, the mystery of ticket number 514 – series 23 are only different aspects of what one could call the enigma of the Blonde Woman. Well, in my opinion, it is just a question of discovering the link which joins the three episodes of the same story, the fact which proves the unity of the three methods. Ganimard, whose judgement is a little superficial, sees this unity in the ability to disappear, in the power of coming and going while remaining invisible. But this miraculous intervention does not satisfy me.”

  “And so?”

  “Well, in my view,” said Sholmes clearly, “the common characteristic of the three cases is your manifest and obvious intention, though not noticed before, to bring the case to locations chosen by you in advance. On your part there is more than just a plan, indeed a necessity, a condition, a sine qua non, for success.”

  “Could you go into it in more detail?”

  “Easily. Thus, from the beginning of your conflict with M. Gerbois, isn’t it obvious that the apartment of Maître Detinan was the location chosen by you, the inevitable location where it was necessary to meet? There was no other one which seemed so secure to you, so much so that you arranged a meeting there, publicly one might say, with the Blonde Woman and Mlle Gerbois.”

  “The teacher’s daughter,” added Wilson.

  “Now, let’s discuss the blue diamond. Did you try to acquire it since it had been in Baron d’Hautrec’s possession? No. But the Baron takes over his brother’s house and, six months later, Antoinette Bréhat comes on the scene and the first attempt is made. The diamond eludes you, and the big noisy auction is organized at the Drouot Building. Will it be an open auction? Can the wealthiest amateur be sure of acquiring the jewel? Not at all. At the moment when the banker Herschmann is about to carry it off, a woman has a letter handed to him, and it is the Countess de Crozon, who has been coached and influenced by the same woman, who buys the diamond. Will it disappear immediately? No: you lack the means to arrange this. So there’s an interlude. But the countess settles down in her chateau, which is what you were waiting for. And the ring disappears.”

  “Only to reappear in Consul Bleichen’s tooth powder, a strange anomaly,” Lupin objected.

  “Come now,” exclaimed Herlock, striking the table with his fist, “you shouldn’t be telling such tall stories to me. Idiots may well be taken in by them, but not this old fox.”

  “Which means?”

  “Which means…”

  Sholmes took his time, as if he wanted to be sure of his effect. Finally he spoke as follows:

  “The blue diamond found in the tooth powder is a false diamond. The real one you kept for yourself.”