813 by Maurice LeBlanc (best young adult book series .txt) 📕

by the light of his electric lantern, that it was absolutely empty and that there was no door in the back wall. He hunted about for a long time, but met with no more success. Outside, however, he saw a ladder standing against the coach-house and obviously serving as a means of reaching a sort of loft contrived under the slate roof.

The loft was blocked with old packing-cases, trusses of straw and gardener’s frames, or rather it seemed to be blocked, for he very soon discovered a gangway that took him to the wall. Here, he knocked up against a cucumber-frame, which he tried to move. Failing to effect his purpose, he examined the frame more closely and found, first, that it was fixed to the wall and, secondly, that one of the panes was missing. He passed his arm through and encountered space. He cast the bright light of the lantern through the aperture and saw a big shed, a coach-house larger than that of the villa and filled with old iron-work and objects of every kind.

“That’s it,” said Lupin to himself. “This window has been contrived in the Broker’s lumber-room, right up at the top, and from here Louis de Malreich sees, hears and watches his accomplices, without being seen or heard by them. I now understand how it is that they do not know their leader.”

Having found out what he wanted, he put out his light and was on the point of leaving, when a door opened opposite him, down below. Some one came in and lit a lamp. He recognized the Broker. He thereupon resolved to stay where he was, since the expedition, after all, could not be done so long as that man was there.

The Broker took two revolvers from his pocket. He tested the triggers and changed the cartridges, whistling a music-hall tune as he did so.

An hour elapsed in this way. Lupin was beginning to grow restless, without, however, making up his mind to go.

More minutes passed, half an hour, an hour…

At last, the man said aloud:

“Come in.”

One of the scoundrels slipped into the shed; and, one after the other, a third arrived and a fourth…

“We are all here,” said the Broker. “Dieudonne and Chubby will meet us down there. Come, we’ve no time to lose… Are you armed?”

“To the teeth.”

“That’s all right. It’ll be hot work.”

“How do you know, Broker?”

“I’ve seen the chief… When I say that I’ve seen him, no… but he spoke to me…”

“Yes,” said one of the men, “in the dark, at a street-corner, as usual. Ah, Altenheim’s ways were better than that. At least, one knew what one was doing.”

“And don’t you know?” retorted the Broker. “We’re breaking in at the Kesselbach woman’s.”

“And what about the two watchers? The two coves whom Lupin posted there?”

“That’s their lookout: there’s seven of us. They had better give us as little trouble as possible.”

“What about the Kesselbach?”

“Gag her first, then bind her and bring her here… There, on that old sofa… And then wait for orders.”

“Is the job well paid?”

“The Kesselbach’s jewels to begin with.”

“Yes, if it comes off… but I’m speaking of the certainty.”

“Three hundred-franc notes apiece, beforehand, and twice as much again afterwards.”

“Have you the money?”

“Yes.”

“That’s all right. You can say what you like, but, as far as paying goes, there’s no one to equal that bloke.” And, in a voice so low that Lupin could hardly hear, “I say, Broker, if we’re obliged to use the knife, is there a reward?”

“The same as usual, two thousand.”

“If it’s Lupin?”

“Three thousand.”

“Oh, if we could only get him!”

One after the other, they left the lumber-room. Lupin heard the Broker’s parting words:

“This is the plan of attack. We divide into three lots. A whistle; and every one runs forward…”

Lupin hurriedly left his hiding-place, went down the ladder, ran round the house, without going in, and climbed back over the railings:

“The Broker’s right; it’ll be hot work… Ah, it’s my skin they’re after! A reward for Lupin! The rascals!”

He passed through the toll-gate and jumped into a taxi:

“Rue Raynouard.”

He stopped the cab at two hundred yards from the Rue des Vinges and walked to the corner of the two streets. To his great surprise, Doudeville was not there.

“That’s funny,” said Lupin. “It’s past twelve… This business looks suspicious to me.”

He waited ten minutes, twenty minutes. At half-past twelve, nobody had arrived. Further delay was dangerous. After all, if Doudeville and his men were prevented from coming, Charolais, his son and he, Lupin, himself were enough to repel the attack, without counting the assistance of the servants.

He therefore went ahead. But he caught sight of two men who tried to hide in the shadow of a corner wall.

“Hang it!” he said. “That’s the vanguard of the gang, Dieudonne and Chubby. I’ve allowed myself to be out-distanced, like a fool.”

Here he lost more time. Should he go straight up to them, disable them and then climb into the house through the pantry-window, which he knew to be unlocked? That would be the most prudent course and would enable him, moreover, to take Mrs. Kesselbach away at once and to remove her to a place of safety.

Yes, but it also meant the failure of his plan; it meant missing this glorious opportunity of trapping the whole gang, including Louis de Malreich himself. without doubt.

Suddenly a whistle sounded from somewhere on the other side of the house. Was it the rest of the gang, so soon? And was an offensive movement to be made from the garden?

But, at the preconcerted signal, the two men climbed through the window and disappeared from view.

Lupin scaled the balcony at a bound and jumped into the pantry. By the sound of their footsteps, he judged that the assailants had gone into the garden; and the sound was so distinct that he felt easy in his mind: Charolais and his son could not fail to hear the noise.

He therefore went upstairs. Mrs. Kesselbach’s bedroom was on the first landing. He walked in without knocking.

A night-light was burning in the room; and he saw Dolores, on a sofa, fainting. He ran up to her, lifted her and, in a voice of command, forcing her to answer:

“Listen… Charloais? His son… Where are they?”

She stammered:

“Why, what do you mean?… They’re gone, of course!…”

“What, gone?”

“You sent me word… an hour ago… a telephone-message…”

He picked up a piece of blue paper lying beside her and read:

“Send the two watchers away at once… and all my men… Tell them to meet me at the Grand Hotel. Have no fear.”

“Thunder! And you believed it?… But your servants?”

“Gone.”

He went up to the window. Outside, three men were coming from the other end of the garden.

From the window in the next room, which looked out on the street, he saw two others, on the pavement.

And he thought of Dieudonne, of Chubby, of Louis de Malreich, above all, who must now be prowling around, invisible and formidable.

“Hang it!” he muttered. “I half believe they’ve done me this time!”