The Hollow Needle; Further adventures of Arsene Lupin

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?"

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,11 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-Valery, 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.