Part 67

“Yes, my friend Devanne told us last night that you were coming, and I am delighted to be the first to welcome you. Sherlock Holmes has no more ardent admirer than.... myself.”

There was a touch of irony in his voice that he quickly regretted, for Sherlock Holmes scrutinized him from head to foot with such a keen, penetrating eye that Arsène Lupin experienced the sensation of being seized, imprisoned and registered by that look more thoroughly and precisely than he had ever been by a camera.

“My negative is taken now,” he thought, “and it will be useless to use a disguise with that man. He would look right through it. But, I wonder, has he recognized me?”

They bowed to each other as if about to part. But, at that moment, they heard a sound of horses’ feet, accompanied by a clinking of steel. It was the gendarmes. The two men were obliged to draw back against the embankment, amongst the brushes, to avoid the horses. The gendarmes passed by, but, as they followed each other at a considerable distance, they were several minutes in doing so. And Lupin was thinking:

“It all depends on that question: has he recognized me? If so, he will probably take advantage of the opportunity. It is a trying situation.”

When the last horseman had passed, Sherlock Holmes stepped forth and brushed the dust from his clothes. Then, for a moment, he and Arsène Lupin gazed at each other; and, if a person could have seen them at that moment, it would have been an interesting sight, and memorable as the first meeting of two remarkable men, so strange, so powerfully equipped, both of superior quality, and destined by fate, through their peculiar attributes, to hurl themselves one at the other like two equal forces that nature opposes, one against the other, in the realms of space.

Then the Englishman said: “Thank you, monsieur.”

“You are quite welcome,” replied Arsène Lupin.

They parted. Lupin went toward the railway station, and Sherlock Holmes continued on his way to the castle.

The local officers had given up the investigation after several hours of fruitless efforts, and the people at the castle were awaiting the arrival of the English detective with a lively curiosity. At first sight, they were a little disappointed on account of his commonplace appearance, which differed so greatly from the pictures they had formed of him in their own minds. He did not in any way resemble the romantic hero, the mysterious and diabolical personage that the name of Sherlock Holmes had evoked in their imaginations. However, Mon. Devanne exclaimed with much gusto:

“Ah! monsieur, you are here! I am delighted to see you. It is a long-deferred pleasure. Really, I scarcely regret what has happened, since it affords me the opportunity to meet you. But, how did you come?”

“By the train.”

“But I sent my automobile to meet you at the station.”

“An official reception, eh? with music and fireworks! Oh! no, not for me. That is not the way I do business,” grumbled the Englishman.

This speech disconcerted Devanne, who replied, with a forced smile:

“Fortunately, the business has been greatly simplified since I wrote to you.”

“In what way?”

“The robbery took place last night.”

“If you had not announced my intended visit, it is probable the robbery would not have been committed last night.”

“When, then?”

“To-morrow, or some other day.”

“And in that case?”

“Lupin would have been trapped,” said the detective.

“And my furniture?”

“Would not have been carried away.”

“Ah! but my goods are here. They were brought back at three o’clock.”

“By Lupin.”

“By two army-wagons.”