The mysterious railway passenger

I HAD sent my motor-car to Rouen by road on the previous day I was to meet it by train, and go on to some friends, who have a house on the Seine

   A few minutes before we left Paris my compartment was invaded by seven gentlemen, five of whom were smoking. Short though the journey by the fast train be, I did not relish the prospect of taking it in such company, the more so as the old-fashioned carriage had no corridor. I therefore collected my overcoat, my newspapers, and my railway guide, and sought refuge in one of the neighboring compartments.

   It was occupied by a lady. At the sight of me, she made a movement of vexation which did not escape my notice, and leaned towards a gentleman standing on the foot-board — her husband, no doubt, who had come to see her off. The gentleman took stock of me, and the examination seemed to conclude to my advantage; for he whispered to his wife and smiled, giving her the look with which we reassure a frightened child. She smiled in her turn, and cast a friendly glance in my direction, as though she suddenly realized that I was one of those well-bred men with whom a woman can remain locked up for an hour or two in a little box six feet square without having anything to fear.

   Her husband said to her:

   "You must not mind, darling; but I have an important appointment, and I must not wait."

   He kissed her affectionately, and went away. His wife blew him some discreet little kisses through the window, and waved her handkerchief.

   Then the guard's whistle sounded, and the train started.

   At that moment, and in spite of the warning shouts of the railway officials, the door opened, and a man burst into our carriage. My travelling companion, who was standing up and arranging her things in the rack, uttered a cry of terror, and dropped down upon the seat.

   I am no coward — far from it; but I confess that these sudden incursions at the last minute are always annoying. They seem so ambiguous, so unnatural. There must be something behind them, else...

   The appearance of the new-comer, however, and his bearing were such as to correct the bad impression produced by the manner of his entrance. He was neatly, almost smartly, dressed; his tie was in good taste, his gloves clean; he had a powerful face.... But, speaking of his face, where on earth had I seen it before? For I had seen it: of that there was no possible doubt; or at least, to be accurate, I found within myself that sort of recollection which is left by the sight of an oft-seen portrait of which one has never beheld the original. And at the same time I felt the uselessness of any effort of memory that I might exert, so inconsistent and vague was that recollection.

   But when my eyes reverted to the lady I sat astounded at the pallor and disorder of her features. She was staring at her neighbor — he was seated on the same side of the carriage — with an expression of genuine affright, and I saw one of her hands steal trembling towards a little travelling-bag that lay on the cushion a few inches from her lap. She ended by taking hold of it, and nervously drew it to her.

   Our eyes met, and I read in hers so great an amount of uneasiness and anxiety that I could not help saying:

   "I hope you are not unwell, madame.... Would you like me to open the window?"

   She made no reply, but, with a timid gesture, called my attention to the individual beside her. I smiled as her husband had done, shrugged my shoulders, and explained to her by signs that she had nothing to fear, that I was there, and that, besides, the gentleman in question seemed quite harmless.

   Just then he turned towards us, contemplated us, one after the other, from head to foot, and then huddled himself into his corner, and made no further movement.

   A silence ensued; but the lady, as though she had summoned up all her energies to perform an act of despair, said to me, in a hardly audible voice:

   "You know he is in our train."

   "Who?"

   "Why, he... he himself... I assure you."

   "Whom do you mean?"

   "Arsene Lupin!"

   She had not removed her eyes from the passenger, and it was at him rather than at me that she flung the syllables of that alarming name.

   He pulled his hat down upon his nose. Was this to conceal his agitation, or was he merely preparing to go to sleep?

   I objected.

   "Arsene Lupin was sentenced yesterday, in his absence, to twenty years' penal servitude. It is not likely that he would commit.it the imprudence of showing himself in public to-day. Besides, the newspapers have discovered that he has been spending the winter in Turkey ever since his famous escape from the Sante."

   "He is in this train," repeated the lady, with the ever more marked intention of being overheard by our companion. "My husband is a deputy prison-governor, and the station-inspector himself told us that they were looking for Arsene Lupin."

   "That is no reason why..."

   "He was seen at the booking-office. He took a ticket for Rouen."

   "It would have been easy to lay hands upon him."

   "He disappeared. The ticket-collector at the door of the waiting-room did not see him; but they thought that he must have gone round by the suburban platforms and stepped into the express that leaves ten minutes after us."

   "In that case, they will have caught him there."

   "And supposing that, at the last moment, he jumped out of that express and entered this, our own train... as he probably... as he most certainly did?"

   "In that case they will catch him here; for the porters and the police cannot have failed to see him going from one train to the other, and, when we reach Rouen, they will net him finely."

   "Him? Never! He will find some means of escaping again."

   "In that case I wish him a good journey."

   "But think of all that he may do in the *mean time!"

   "What?"

   "How can I tell? One must be prepared for anything."

   She was greatly agitated; and, in point of fact, the situation, to a certain degree, warranted her nervous state of excitement. Almost in spite of myself, I said:

   "There are such things as curious coincidences, it is true.... But calm yourself. Admitting that Arsene Lupin is in one of these carriages, he is sure to keep quiet, and, rather than bring fresh trouble upon himself, he will have no other idea than that of avoiding the danger that threatens him."

   My words failed to reassure her. However she said no more, fearing, no doubt, lest I should think her troublesome.

   As for myself, I opened my newspapers and read the reports of Arsene Lupin's trial. They contained nothing that was not already known, and they interested me but slightly. Moreover, I was tired, I had had a poor night, I felt my eye-lids growing heavy, and my head began to nod.

   "But surely, sir, you are not going to sleep?"

   The lady snatched my paper from my hands, and looked at me with indignation.

   "Certainly not," I replied. "I have no wish to."

   "It would be most imprudent," she said.

   "Most," I repeated.

   And I struggled hard, fixing my eyes on the landscape, on the clouds that streaked the sky. And soon all this became confused in space, the image of the excited lady and the drowsy man was obliterated in my mind, and I was filled with the great, deep silence of sleep.

   It was soon made agreeable by light and incoherent dreams, in which a being who played the part and bore the name of Arsene Lupin occupied a certain place. He turned and shifted on the horizon, his back laden with valuables, clambering over walls and stripping country-houses of their contents.

   But the outline of this being, who had ceased to be Arsene Lupin, grew more distinct. He came towards me, grew bigger and bigger, leaped into the carriage with incredible agility, and fell full upon my chest.

   A sharp pain... a piercing scream... I awoke. The man, my fellow-traveller, with one knee on my chest, was clutching my throat.

   I saw this very dimly, for my eyes were shot with blood. I also saw the lady in a corner writhing in a violent fit of hysterics. I did not even attempt to resist. I should not have had the strength for it had I wished to: my temples were throbbing, I choked ... my throat rattled.... Another minute... and I should have been suffocated.

   The man must have felt this. He loosened his grip. Without leaving hold of me, with his right hand he stretched a rope, in which he had prepared a slipknot, and, with a quick turn, tied my wrists together. In a moment I was bound, gagged — rendered motionless and helpless.

   And he performed this task in the most natural manner in the world, with an ease that revealed the knowledge of a master, of an expert in theft and crime. Not a word, not a fevered movement. Sheer coolness and audacity. And there lay I on the seat, roped up like a mummy — I, Arsene Lupin!

   It was really ridiculous. And notwithstanding the seriousness of the circumstances I could not but appreciate and almost enjoy the irony of the situation. Arsene Lupin "done" like a novice, stripped like the first-comer! For of course the scoundrel relieved me of my pocket-book and purse! Arsene Lupin victimized in his turn — duped and beaten! What an adventure!

   There remained the lady. He took no notice of her at all. He contented himself with picking up the wrist-bag that lay on the floor, and extracting the jewels, the purse, the gold and silver knicknacks which it contained. The lady opened her eyes, shuddered with fright, took off her rings and handed them to the man as though she wished to spare him any superfluous exertion. He took the rings, and looked at her: she fainted away.

   Then, calm and silent as before, without troubling about us further, he resumed his seat, lit a cigarette, and abandoned himself to a careful scrutiny of the treasures which he had captured, the inspection of which seemed to satisfy him completely.

   I was much less satisfied. I am not speaking of the twelve thousand francs of which I had been unduly plundered: this was a loss which I accepted only for the time; I had no doubt that those twelve thousand francs would return to my possession after a short interval, together with the exceedingly important papers which my pocket-book contained: plans, estimates, specifications, addresses, lists of correspondents, letters of a coin-promising character. But, for the moment, a more immediate and serious care was worrying me: what was to happen next?

   As may be readily imagined, the excitement caused by my passing through the Gare Saint-Lazare had not escaped me. As I was going to stay with friends who knew me by the name of Guillaume Berlat, and to whom my resemblance to Arsene Lupin was the occasion of many a friendly jest, I had not been able to disguise myself after my wont, and my presence had been discovered. Moreover, a man, doubtless Arsene Lupin, had been seen to rush from the express into the fast train. Hence it was inevitable and fated that the commissary of police at Rouen, warned by telegram, would await the arrival of the train, assisted by a respectable number of constables, question any suspicious passengers, and proceed to make a minute inspection of the carriages.

   All this I had foreseen, and had not felt greatly excited about it; for I was certain that the Rouen police would display no greater perspicacity than the Paris police, and that I should have been able to pass unperceived: was it not sufficient for me, at the wicket, carelessly to show my deputy's card, collector at Saint-Lazare with every confidence? But how things had changed since then! I was no longer free. It was impossible to attempt one of my usual moves. In one of the carriages the commissary would discover the Sieur Arsene Lupin, whom a propitious fate was sending to him bound hand and foot, gentle as a lamb, packed up complete. He had only to accept delivery, just as you receive a parcel addressed to you at a railway station, a hamper of game, or a basket of vegetables and fruit.

   And to avoid this annoying catastrophe, what could I do, entangled as I was in my bonds?

   And the train was speeding towards Rouen, the next and the only stopping-place; it rushed through Vernon, through Saint-Pierre....

   I was puzzled also by another problem in which I was not so directly interested, but the solution of which aroused my professional curiosity: What were my fellow-traveller's intentions?

   If I had been alone he would have had ample time to alight quite calmly at Rouen. But the lady? As soon as the carriage door was opened the lady, meek and quiet as she sat at present, would scream, and throw herself about, and cry for help!

   Hence my astonishment. Why did he not reduce her to the same state of powerlessness as myself, which would have given him time to disappear before his twofold misdeed was discovered?

   He was still smoking, his eyes fixed on the view outside, which a hesitating rain was beginning to streak with long, slanting lines. Once, however, he turned round, took up my railway guide, and consulted it.

   As for the lady, she made every effort to continue fainting, so as to quiet her enemy. But a fit of coughing, produced by the smoke, gave the lie to her pretended swoon.

   Myself, I was very uncomfortable, and had pains all over my body. And I thought... I planned.

   Pont-de-l'Arche... Oissel.... The train was hurrying on, glad, drunk with speed.... Saint-Etienne....

   At that moment the man rose and took two steps towards us, to which the lady hastened to reply with a new scream and a genuine fainting fit.

   But what could his object be? He lowered the window on our side. The rain was now falling in torrents, and he made a movement of annoyance at having neither umbrella nor overcoat. He looked up at the rack: the lady's en-tout-cas was there; he took it. He also took my overcoat and put it on.

   We were crossing the Seine. He turned up his trousers, and then, leaning out of the window, raised the outer latch.

   Did he mean to fling himself on the permanent way? At the rate at which we were going it would have been certain death. We plunged into the tunnel pierced under the Cote Sainte-Catherine. The man opened the door, and, with one foot, felt for the step. What madness! The darkness, the smoke, the din — all combined to give a fantastic appearance to any such attempt. But suddenly the train slowed up, the Westinghouse brakes counteracted the movement of the wheels. In a minute the pace from fast became normal, and decreased still more. Without a doubt there was a gang at work repairing this part of the tunnel; this would necessitate a slower passage of the trains for some days perhaps, and the man knew it.

   He had only, therefore, to put his other foot on the step, climb down to the foot-board, and walk away quietly, not without first closing the door, and throwing back the latch.

   He had scarcely disappeared when the smoke showed whiter in the daylight. We emerged into a valley. One more tunnel, and we should be at Rouen.

   The lady at once recovered her wits, and her first care was to bewail the loss of her jewels. I gave her a beseeching glance. She understood, and relieved me of the gag which was stifling me. She wanted also to unfasten my bonds, but I stopped her.

   "No, no; the police must see everything as it was. I want them to be fully informed as regards that blackguard's actions."

   "Shall I pull the alarm-signal?"

   "Too late. You should have thought of that while he was attacking me."

   "But he would have killed me! Ah, sir, didn't I tell you that he was travelling by this train? I knew him at once, by his portrait. And now he's taken my jewels!"

   "They'll catch him, have no fear."

   "Catch Arsene Lupin! Never."

   "It all depends on you, madam. Listen. When we arrive be at the window, call out, make a noise. The police and porters will come up. Tell them what you have seen in a few words: the assault of which I was the victim, and the flight of Arsene Lupin. Give his description: a soft hat, an umbrella — yours — a gray frock-overcoat..."

   "Yours," she said.

   "Mine? No, his own. I didn't have one."

   "I thought that he had none either when he got in."

   "He must have had... unless it was a coat which some one left behind in the rack. In any case, he had it when he got out, and that is the essential thing.... A gray frock-overcoat, remember.... Oh, I was forgetting ... tell them your name to start with. Your husband's functions will stimulate the zeal of all those men."

   We were arriving. She was already leaning out of the window. I resumed, in a louder, almost imperious voice, so that my words should sink into her brain:

   "Give my name also, Guillaume Berlat. If necessary, say you know me... That will save time... we must hurry on the preliminary inquiries... the important thing is to catch Arsene Lupin... with your jewels.... You quite understand, don't you? Guillaume Berlat, a friend of your husband's."

   "Quite... Guillaume Berlat."

   She was already calling out and gesticulating. Before the train had come to a standstill a gentleman climbed in, followed by a number of other men. The critical hour was at hand.

   Breathlessly the lady exclaimed:

   "Arsene Lupin... he attacked us... he has stolen my jewels.... I am Madame Renaud... my husband is a deputy prison-governor.... Ah, here's my brother, Georges Andelle, manager of the Credit Rouennais.... What I want to say is..."

   She kissed a young man who had just come up, and who exchanged greetings with the commissary. She continued, weeping:

   "Yes, Arsene Lupin.... He flew at this gentleman's throat in his sleep.... Monsieur Berlat, a friend of my husband's."

   "But where is Arsene Lupin?"

   "He jumped out of the train in the tunnel, after we had crossed the Seine."

   "Are you sure it was he?"

   "Certain. I recognized him at once. Besides, he was seen at the Gare Saint-Lazare. He was wearing a soft hat..."

   "No; a hard felt hat, like this," said the commissary, pointing to my hat.

   "A soft hat, I assure you," repeated Madame Renaud, "and a gray frock-overcoat."

   "Yes," muttered the commissary; "the telegram mentions a gray frock-overcoat with a black velvet collar."

   "A black velvet collar, that's it!" exclaimed Madame Renaud, triumphantly.

   I breathed again. What a good, excellent friend I had found in her!

   Meanwhile the policemen had released me from my bonds. I bit my lips violently till the blood flowed. Bent in two, with my handkerchief to my mouth, as seems proper to a man who has long been sitting in a constrained position, and who bears on his face the blood-stained marks of the gag, I said to the commissary, in a feeble voice:

   "Sir, it was Arsene Lupin, there is no doubt of it.... You can catch him if you hurry.... I think I may be of some use to you...."

   The coach, which was needed for the inspection by the police, was slipped. The remainder of the train went on towards Le Havre. We were taken to the station-master's office through a crowd of on-lookers who filled the platform.

   Just then I felt a hesitation. I must make some excuse to absent myself, find my motor-car, and be off. It was dangerous to wait. If anything happened, if a telegram came from Paris, I was lost.

   Yes; but what about my robber? Left to my own resources, in a district with which I was not very well acquainted, I could never hope to come up with him.

   "Bah!" I said to myself. "Let us risk it, and stay. It's a difficult hand to win, but a very amusing one to play. And the stakes are worth the trouble."

   And as we were being asked provisionally to repeat our depositions, I exclaimed:

   "Mr. Commissary, Arsene Lupin is getting a start of us. My motor is waiting for me in the yard. If you will do me the pleasure to accept a seat in it, we will try..."

   The commissary gave a knowing smile.

   "It's not a bad idea... such a good idea, in fact, that it's already being carried out."

   "Oh!"

   "Yes; two of my officers started on bicycles... some time ago."

   "But where to?"

   "To the entrance to the tunnel. There they will pick up the clews and the evidence, and follow the track of Arsene Lupin."

   I could not help shrugging my shoulders.

   "Your two officers will pick up no clews and no evidence."

   "Really!"

   "Arsene Lupin will have arranged that no one should see him leave the tunnel. He will have taken the nearest road, and from there..."

   "From there made for Rouen, where we shall catch him."

   "He will not go to Rouen."

   "In that case, he will remain in the neighborhood, where we shall be even more certain..."

   "He will not remain in the neighborhood."

   "Oh! Then where will he hide himself?"

   I took out my watch.

   "At this moment Arsene Lupin is hanging about the station at Darnetal. At ten-fifty — that is to say, in twenty-two minutes from now — he will take the train which leaves Rouen from the Gare du Nord for Amiens."

   "Do you think so? And how do you know?"

   "Oh, it's very simple. In the carriage Arsene Lupin consulted my railway guide. What for? To see if there was another line near the place where he disappeared, a station on that line, and a train which stopped at that station. I have just looked at the guide myself, and learned what I wanted to know."

   "Upon my word, sir," said the commissary, "you possess marvellous powers of deduction. What an expert you must be!"

   Dragged on by my certainty, I had blundered by displaying too much cleverness. He looked at me in astonishment, and I saw that a suspicion flickered through his mind. Only just, it is true; for the photographs despatched in every direction were so unlike, represented an Arsene Lupin so different from the one that stood before him, that he could not possibly recognize the original in me. Nevertheless, he was troubled, restless, perplexed.

   There was a moment of silence. A certain ambiguity and doubt seemed to interrupt our words. A shudder of anxiety passed through me.

   Was luck about to turn against me? Mastering myself, I began to laugh.

   "Ah well, there's nothing to sharpen one's wits like the loss of a pocket-book and the desire to find it again. And it seems to me that, if you will give me two of your men, the three of us might, perhaps..."

   "Oh, please, Mr. Commissary," exclaimed Madame Renaud, "do what Monsieur Berlat suggests."

   My Kind friend's intervention turned the scale. Uttered by her, the wife of an influential person, the name of Berlat became mine in reality, and conferred upon me an identity which no suspicion could touch. The commissary rose.

   "Believe me, Monsieur Berlat, I shall be only too pleased to see you succeed. I am as anxious as yourself to have Arsene Lupin arrested."

   He accompanied me to my car. He introduced two of his men to me: Honore Massol and Gaston Delivet. They took their seats. I placed myself at the wheel. My chauffeur started the engine. A few seconds later we had left the station. I was saved.

   I confess that as we dashed in my powerful 35-h.p. Moreau-Lepton along the boulevards that skirt the old Norman city I was not without a certain sense of pride. The engine hummed harmoniously. The trees sped behind us to right and left. And now, free and out of danger, I had nothing to do but to settle my own little private affairs with the co-operation of two worthy representatives of the law. Arsene Lupin was going in search of Arsene Lupin!

   Ye humble mainstays of the social order of things, Gaston Delivet and Honore Massol, how precious was your assistance to me! Where should I have been without you? But for you, at how many cross-roads should I have taken the wrong turning! But for you, Arsene Lupin would have gone astray and the other escaped!

   But all was not over yet. Far from it. I had first to capture the fellow and next to take possession, myself, of the papers of which he had robbed me. At no cost must my two satellites be allowed to catch a sight of those documents, much less lay hands upon them. To make us of them and yet act independently of them was what I wanted to do; and it was no easy matter.

   We reached Darnetal three minutes after the train had left. I had the consolation of learning that a man in a gray frock-overcoat with a black velvet collar had got into a second-class carriage with a ticket for Amiens. There was no doubt about it: my first appearance as a detective was a promising one.

   Delivet said:

   "The train is an express, and does not stop before Monterolier-Buchy, in nineteen minutes from now. If we are not there before Arsene Lupin he can go on towards Amiens, branch off to Cleres, and, from there, make for Dieppe or Paris."

   "How far is Monterolier?"

   "Fourteen miles and a half."

   "Fourteen miles and a half in nineteen minutes... We shall be there before he is."

   It was a stirring race. Never had my trusty Moreau-Lepton responded to my impatience with greater ardor and regularity. It seemed to me as though I communicated my wishes to her directly, without the intermediary of levers or handles. She shared my desires. She approved of my determination. She understood my animosity against that blackguard Arsene Lupin. The scoundrel! The sneak! Should I get the best of him? Or would he once more baffle authority, that authority of which I was the incarnation?

   "Right!" cried Delivet.... "Left! ... Straight ahead!..."

   We skimmed the ground. The mile-stones looked like little timid animals that fled at our approach.

   And suddenly at the turn of a road a cloud of smoke — the north express!

   For half a mile it was a struggle side by side — an unequal struggle, of which the issue was certain — we beat the train by twenty lengths.

   In three seconds we were on the platform in front of the second class. The doors were flung open. A few people stepped out. My thief was not among them. We examined the carriages. No Arsene Lupin.

   "By Jove!" I exclaimed, "he must have recognized me in the motor while we were going alongside of him, and jumped!"

   The guard of the train confirmed my supposition. He had seen a man scrambling down the embankment at two hundred yards from the station.

   "There he is!... Look!... At the level crossing!"

   I darted in pursuit, followed by my two satellites, or, rather, by one of them; for the other, Massol, turned out to be an uncommonly fast sprinter, gifted with both speed and staying power. In a few seconds the distance between him and the fugitive was greatly diminished. The man saw him, jumped a hedge, and scampered off towards a slope, which he climbed. We saw him, farther still, entering a little wood.

   When we reached the wood we found Massol waiting for us. He had thought it no use to go on, lest he should lose us.

   "You were quite right, my dear fellow," I said. "After a run like this our friend must be exhausted. We've got him."

   I examined the skirts of the wood while thinking how I could best proceed alone to arrest the fugitive, in order myself to effect certain recoveries which the law, no doubt, would only have allowed after a number of disagreeable inquiries. Then I returned to my companions.

   "Look here, it's very easy. You, Massol, take up your position on the left. You, Delivet, on the right. From there you can watch the whole rear of the wood, and he can't leave it unseen by you except by this hollow, where I shall stand. If he does not come out, I'll go in and force him back towards one or the other of you. You have nothing to do, therefore, but wait. Oh, I was forgetting: in case of alarm, I'll fire a shot."

   Massol and Delivet moved off, each to his own side. As soon as they were out of sight I made my way into the wood with infinite precautions, so as to be neither seen nor heard. It consisted of close thickets, contrived for the shooting, and intersected by very narrow paths, in which it was only possible to walk by stooping, as though in a leafy tunnel.

   One of these ended in a glade, where the damp grass showed the marks of footsteps. I followed them, taking care to steal through the underwood. They led me to the bottom of a little mound, crowned by a tumble-down lath-and-plaster hovel.

   "He must be there," I thought. "He has selected a good post of observation."

   I crawled close up to the building. A slight sound warned me of his presence, and, in fact, I caught sight of him through an opening; with his back turned towards me.

   Two bounds brought me upon him. He tried to point the revolver which he held in his hand. I did not give him time, but pulled him to the ground in such a way that his two arms were twisted and caught under him, while I held him pinned down with my knee upon his chest.

   "Listen to me, old chap," I whispered in his ear. "I am Arsene Lupin. You've got to give me back, this minute and without any fuss, my pocket-book and the lady's wrist-bag... in return for which I'll save you from the clutches of the police and enroll you among my friends. Which is it to be: yes or no?"

   "Yes," he muttered.

   "That's right. Your plan of this morning was cleverly thought out. We shall be good friends."

   I got up. He fumbled in his pocket, fetched out a great knife, and tried to strike me with it.

   "You ass!" I cried.

   With one hand I parried the attack. With the other I caught him a violent blow on the carotid artery, the blow which is known as "the carotid hook." He fell back stunned.

   In my pocket-book I found my papers and bank-notes. I took his own out of curiosity. On an envelope addressed to him I read his name: Pierre Onfrey.

   I gave a start. Pierre Onfrey, the perpetrator of the murder in the Rue Lafontaine at Auteuil! Pierre Onfrey, the man who had cut the throats of Madame Delbois and her two daughters. I bent over him. Yes, that was the face which, in the railway-carriage, had aroused in me the memory of features which I had seen before.

   But time was passing. I placed two hundred-franc notes in an envelope, with a visiting-card bearing these words:

   "Arsene Lupin to his worthy assistants, Honore Massol and Gaston Delivet, with his best thanks."

   I laid this where it could be seen, in the middle of the room. Beside it I placed Madame Renaud's wrist-bag. Why should it not be restored to the kind friend who had rescued me? I confess, however, that I took from it everything that seemed in any way interesting, leaving only a tortoise-shell comb, a stick of lip-salve, and an empty purse. Business is business, when all is said and done! And, besides, her husband followed such a disreputable occupation!...

   There remained the man. He was beginning to move. What was I to do? I was not qualified either to save or to condemn him.

   I took away his weapons, and fired my revolver in the air.

   "That will bring the two others," I thought. "He must find a way out of his own difficulties. Let fate take its course."

   And I went down the hollow road at a run.

   Twenty minutes later a cross-road which I had noticed during our pursuit brought me back to my car.

   At four o'clock I telegraphed to my friends from Rouen that an unexpected incident compelled me to put off my visit. Between ourselves, I greatly fear that, in view of what they must now have learned, I shall be obliged to postpone it indefinitely. It will be a cruel disappointment for them!

   At six o'clock I returned to Paris by L'Isle-Adam, Enghien, and the Porte Bineau.

   I gathered from the evening papers that the police had at last succeeded in capturing Pierre Onfrey.

   The next morning — why should we despise the advantages of intelligent advertisement? — the Echo de France contained the following sensational paragraph:

   "Yesterday, near Buchy, after a number of incidents, Arsene Lupin effected the arrest of Pierre Onfrey. The Auteuil murderer had robbed a lady of the name of Renaud, the wife of the deputy prison-governor, in the train between Paris and Le Havre. Arsene Lupin has restored to Madame Renaud the wrist-bag which contained her jewels, and has generously rewarded the two detectives who assisted him in the matter of this dramatic arrest."