“Yes, half of it. Have you the other?”
“Here it is. Let’s compare.”
They spread the two pieces of silk on the table. The cuts made by the scissors corresponded exactly. Moreover, the colors were identical.
“But I presume,” said Lupin, “that this was not the only thing you came for. What you are interested in seeing is the marks of the blood. Come with me, Ganimard: it’s rather dark in here.”
They moved into the next room, which, though it overlooked the courtyard, was lighter; and Lupin held his piece of silk against the windowpane:
“Look,” he said, making room for Ganimard.
The inspector gave a start of delight. The marks of the five fingers and the print of the palm were distinctly visible. The evidence was undeniable. The murderer had seized the stuff in his bloodstained hand, in the same hand that had stabbed Jenny Saphir, and tied the scarf round her neck.
“And it is the print of a left hand,” observed Lupin. “Hence my warning, which had nothing miraculous about it, you see. For, though I admit, friend of my youth, that you may look upon me as a superior intelligence, I won’t have you treat me as a wizard.”
Ganimard had quickly pocketed the piece of silk. Lupin nodded his head in approvaclass="underline"
“Quite right, old boy, it’s for you. I’m so glad you’re glad! And, you see, there was no trap about all this... only the wish to oblige... a service between friends, between pals... And also, I confess, a little curiosity... Yes, I wanted to examine this other piece of silk, the one the police had... Don’t be afraid: I’ll give it back to you... Just a second...”
Lupin, with a careless movement, played with the tassel at the end of his half of the scarf, while Ganimard listened to him in spite of himself:
“How ingenious these little bits of women’s work are! Did you notice one detail in the maid’s evidence? Jenny Saphir was very handy with her needle and used to make all her own hats and frocks. It is obvious that she made this scarf herself... I noticed that from the first. Besides, I am naturally curious, as I have already told you, and I made a thorough examination of the piece of silk which you have just put in your pocket. Inside the tassel, I found a little sacred medal, which the poor girl had stitched into it to bring her luck. Touching, isn’t it, Ganimard? A little medal of Our Lady of Good Succor.”
The inspector felt greatly puzzled and did not take his eyes off the other. And Lupin continued:
“Then I said to myself, ‘How interesting it would be to explore the other half of the scarf, the one which the police will find round the victim’s neck!’ For this other half, which I hold in my hands at last, is finished off in the same way... so I shall be able to see if it has a hiding place too and what’s inside it... But look, my friend, isn’t it cleverly made? And so simple! All you have to do is to take a skein of red cord and braid it round a wooden cup, leaving a little recess, a little empty space in the middle, very small, of course, but large enough to hold a medal of a saint... or anything... A precious stone, for instance... Such as a sapphire...”
At that moment he finished pushing back the silk cord and, from the hollow of a cup he took between his thumb and forefinger a wonderful blue stone, perfect in respect of size and purity.
“Ha! What did I tell you, friend of my youth?”
He raised his head. The inspector had turned livid and was staring wild-eyed, as though fascinated by the stone that sparkled before him. He at last realized the whole plot:
“You dirty scoundrel!” he muttered, repeating the insults which he had used at the first interview. “You scum of the earth!”
The two men were standing one against the other.
“Give me back that,” said the inspector.
Lupin held out the piece of silk.
“And the sapphire,” said Ganimard, in a peremptory tone.
“Don’t be silly.”
“Give it back, or...”
“Or what, you idiot!” cried Lupin. “Look here, do you think I put you on to this soft thing for nothing?”
“Give it back!”
“You haven’t noticed what I’ve been about, that’s plain! What! For four weeks I’ve kept you on the move like a deer; and you want to!... Come, Ganimard, old chap, pull yourself together!... Don’t you see that you’ve been playing the good dog for four weeks on end?... Fetch it, Rover!... There’s a nice blue pebble over there, which master can’t get at. Hunt it, Ganimard, fetch it... bring it to master... Ah, he’s his master’s own good little dog!... Sit up! Beg!... Does’ms want a bit of sugar, then?...”
Ganimard, containing the anger that seethed within him, thought only of one thing, summoning his detectives. And, as the room in which he now was looked out on the courtyard, he tried gradually to work his way round to the communicating door. He would then run to the window and break one of the panes.
“All the same,” continued Lupin, “what a pack of dunderheads you and the rest must be! You’ve had the silk all this time and not one of you ever thought of feeling it, not one of you ever asked himself the reason why the poor girl hung on to her scarf. Not one of you! You just acted at haphazard, without reflecting, without foreseeing anything...”
The inspector had attained his object. Taking advantage of a second when Lupin had turned away from him, he suddenly wheeled round and grasped the door handle. But an oath escaped him: the handle did not budge.
Lupin burst into a fit of laughing:
“Not even that! You did not even foresee that! You lay a trap for me and you won’t admit that I may perhaps smell the thing out beforehand... And you allow yourself to be brought into this room without asking whether I am not bringing you here for a particular reason and without remembering that the locks are fitted with a special mechanism. Come now, speaking frankly, what do you think of it yourself?”
“What do I think of it?” roared Ganimard, beside himself with rage.
He had drawn his revolver and was pointing it straight at Lupin’s face.
“Hands up!” he cried. “That’s what I think of it!”
Lupin placed himself in front of him and shrugged his shoulders:
“Sold again!” he said.
“Hands up, I say, once more!”
“And sold again, say I. Your deadly weapon won’t go off.”
“What?”
“Old Catherine, your housekeeper, is in my service. She damped the charges this morning while- you were having your breakfast coffee.”
Ganimard made a furious gesture, pocketed the revolver and rushed at Lupin.
“Well?” said Lupin, stopping him short with a well aimed kick on the shin.
Their clothes were almost touching. They exchanged defiant glances, the glances of two adversaries who mean to come to blows. Nevertheless, there was no fight. The recollection of the earlier struggles made any present struggle useless. And Ganimard, who remembered all his past failures, his vain attacks, Lupin’s crushing reprisals, did not lift a limb. There was nothing to be done. He felt it. Lupin had forces at his command against which any individual force simply broke to pieces. So what was the good?
“I agree,” said Lupin, in a friendly voice, as though answering Ganimard’s unspoken thought, “you would do better to let things be as they are. Besides, friend of my youth, think of all that this incident has brought you: fame, the certainty of quick promotion and, thanks to that, the prospect of a happy and comfortable old age! Surely, you don’t want the discovery of the sapphire and the head of poor Arsène Lupin in addition! It wouldn’t be fair. To say nothing of the fact that poor Arsène Lupin saved your life... Yes, sir! Who warned you, at this very spot, that Prévailles was left-handed?... And is this the way you thank me? It’s not pretty of you, Ganimard. Upon my word, you make me blush for you!”