The Crystal Stopper by Maurice Leblanc (the best e book reader .txt) 📕
Description
Arsène Lupin’s attempted robbery of the deputy Daubrecq has gone horribly wrong, leaving behind a murdered man and two of his accomplices in the hands of the police. Now he finds himself pulled into an ever more conspiratorial spiral as he attempts to gain leverage over the people who can free his men. Set before the events of the preceding 813, this again portrays Lupin in a much different light to the earlier books. At times almost coming to despair, this story shows him grappling with his personal morals whilst trying to do the best for those closest to him.
The story was originally serialised in Le Journal in 1912, before being published as a novel in both the original French and this English translation by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos in 1913.
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- Author: Maurice Leblanc
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Daubrecq was in the front part of the room, four or five yards down from the window at which Lupin lurked. In addition to the ancient chains that had been used to fasten him to his bed and to fasten the bed to an iron hook in the wall, his wrists and ankles were girt with leather thongs; and an ingenious arrangement caused his least movement to set in motion a bell hung to the nearest pillar.
A lamp placed on a stool lit him full in the face.
The Marquis d’Albufex was standing beside him. Lupin could see his pale features, his grizzled moustache, his long, lean form as he looked at his prisoner with an expression of content and of gratified hatred.
A few minutes passed in profound silence. Then the marquis gave an order:
“Light those three candles, Sébastiani, so that I can see him better.”
And, when the three candles were lit and he had taken a long look at Daubrecq, he stooped over him and said, almost gently:
“I can’t say what will be the end of you and me. But at any rate I shall have had some deuced happy moments in this room. You have done me so much harm, Daubrecq! The tears you have made me shed! Yes, real tears, real sobs of despair … The money you have robbed me of! A fortune! … And my terror at the thought that you might give me away! You had but to utter my name to complete my ruin and bring about my disgrace! … Oh, you villain! …”
Daubrecq did not budge. He had been deprived of his black glasses, but still kept his spectacles, which reflected the light from the candles. He had lost a good deal of flesh; and the bones stood out above his sunken cheeks.
“Come along,” said d’Albufex. “The time has come to act. It seems that there are rogues prowling about the neighbourhood. Heaven forbid that they are here on your account and try to release you; for that would mean your immediate death, as you know … Is the trapdoor still in working order, Sébastiani?”
Sébastiani came nearer, knelt on one knee and lifted and turned a ring, at the foot of the bed, which Lupin had not noticed. One of the flagstones moved on a pivot, disclosing a black hole.
“You see,” the marquis continued, “everything is provided for; and I have all that I want at hand, including dungeons: bottomless dungeons, says the legend of the castle. So there is nothing to hope for, no help of any kind. Will you speak?”
Daubrecq did not reply; and he went on:
“This is the fourth time that I am questioning you, Daubrecq. It is the fourth time that I have troubled to ask you for the document which you possess, in order that I may escape your blackmailing proceedings. It is the fourth time and the last. Will you speak?”
The same silence as before. D’Albufex made a sign to Sébastiani. The huntsman stepped forward, followed by two of his sons. One of them held a stick in his hand.
“Go ahead,” said d’Albufex, after waiting a few seconds.
Sébastiani slackened the thongs that bound Daubrecq’s wrists and inserted and fixed the stick between the thongs.
“Shall I turn, monsieur le marquis?”
A further silence. The marquis waited. Seeing that Daubrecq did not flinch, he whispered:
“Can’t you speak? Why expose yourself to physical suffering?”
No reply.
“Turn away, Sébastiani.”
Sébastiani made the stick turn a complete circle. The thongs stretched and tightened. Daubrecq gave a groan.
“You won’t speak? Still, you know that I won’t give way, that I can’t give way, that I hold you and that, if necessary, I shall torture you till you die of it. You won’t speak? You won’t? … Sébastiani, once more.”
The huntsman obeyed. Daubrecq gave a violent start of pain and fell back on his bed with a rattle in his throat.
“You fool!” cried the marquis, shaking with rage. “Why don’t you speak? What, haven’t you had enough of that list? Surely it’s somebody else’s turn! Come, speak … Where is it? One word. One word only … and we will leave you in peace … And, tomorrow, when I have the list, you shall be free. Free, do you understand? But, in Heaven’s name, speak! … Oh, the brute! Sébastiani, one more turn.”
Sébastiani made a fresh effort. The bones cracked.
“Help! Help!” cried Daubrecq, in a hoarse voice, vainly struggling to release himself. And, in a spluttering whisper, “Mercy … mercy.”
It was a dreadful sight … The faces of the three sons were horror-struck. Lupin shuddered, sick at heart, and realized that he himself could never have accomplished that abominable thing. He listened for the words that were bound to come. He must learn the truth. Daubrecq’s secret was about to be expressed in syllables, in words wrung from him by pain. And Lupin began to think of his retreat, of the car which was waiting for him, of the wild rush to Paris, of the victory at hand.
“Speak,” whispered d’Albufex. “Speak and it will be over.”
“Yes … yes …” gasped Daubrecq.
“Well … ?”
“Later … tomorrow …”
“Oh, you’re mad! … What are you talking about: tomorrow? … Sébastiani, another turn!”
“No, no!” yelled Daubrecq. “Stop!”
“Speak!”
“Well, then … the paper … I have hidden the paper …”
But his pain was too great. He raised his head with a last effort, uttered incoherent words, succeeded in twice saying, “Marie … Marie …” and fell back, exhausted and lifeless.
“Let go at once!” said d’Albufex to Sébastiani. “Hang it all, can we have overdone it?”
But a rapid examination showed him that Daubrecq had only fainted. Thereupon, he himself, worn out with the excitement, dropped on the foot of the bed and, wiping the beads of perspiration from his forehead, stammered:
“Oh, what a dirty business!”
“Perhaps that’s enough for today,” said the huntsman, whose rough face betrayed a certain emotion. “We might try again tomorrow or the next
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