The Confessions of Arsène Lupin

Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Meredith Bach, and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net







[Illustration: "_Suddenly he rushed at her and caught her by the arm_"]




    THE INTERNATIONAL
    ADVENTURE LIBRARY


    THREE OWLS EDITION

     THE CONFESSIONS
     OF ARSENE LUPIN

    An Adventure Story

           BY
     MAURICE LEBLANC
 Author of "Arsene Lupin"

   W. R. CALDWELL & CO.
         NEW YORK




 _Copyright, 1912, 1913, by_
 Maurice Leblanc

 _All rights reserved, including that of
 translation into foreign languages,
 including the Scandinavian_




CONTENTS


CHAPTER                                               PAGE

    I. TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND FRANCS REWARD!               1

    II. THE WEDDING-RING                                36

    III. THE SIGN OF THE SHADOW                         66

    IV. THE INFERNAL TRAP                              101

    V. THE RED SILK SCARF                              138

    VI. SHADOWED BY DEATH                              177

    VII. A TRAGEDY IN THE FOREST OF MORGUES            210

    VIII. LUPIN'S MARRIAGE                             228

    IX. THE INVISIBLE PRISONER                         266

    X. EDITH SWAN-NECK                                 291




THE CONFESSIONS OF ARSENE LUPIN




THE CONFESSIONS OF ARSENE LUPIN




I

TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND FRANCS REWARD!...


"Lupin," I said, "tell me something about yourself."

"Why, what would you have me tell you? Everybody knows my life!" replied
Lupin, who lay drowsing on the sofa in my study.

"Nobody knows it!" I protested. "People know from your letters in the
newspapers that you were mixed up in this case, that you started that
case. But the part which you played in it all, the plain facts of the
story, the upshot of the mystery: these are things of which they know
nothing."

"Pooh! A heap of uninteresting twaddle!"

"What! Your present of fifty thousand francs to Nicolas Dugrival's wife!
Do you call that uninteresting? And what about the way in which you
solved the puzzle of the three pictures?"

Lupin laughed:

"Yes, that was a queer puzzle, certainly. I can suggest a title for you
if you like: what do you say to _The Sign of the Shadow_?"

"And your successes in society and with the fair sex?" I continued. "The
dashing Arsene's love-affairs!... And the clue to your good actions?
Those chapters in your life to which you have so often alluded under the
names of _The Wedding-ring_, _Shadowed by Death_, and so on!... Why
delay these confidences and confessions, my dear Lupin?... Come, do what
I ask you!..."

It was at the time when Lupin, though already famous, had not yet fought
his biggest battles; the time that preceded the great adventures of _The
Hollow Needle_ and _813_. He had not yet dreamt of annexing the
accumulated treasures of the French Royal House[A] nor of changing the
map of Europe under the Kaiser's nose[B]: he contented himself with
milder surprises and humbler profits, making his daily effort, doing
evil from day to day and doing a little good as well, naturally and for
the love of the thing, like a whimsical and compassionate Don Quixote.


  [A] _The Hollow Needle._ By Maurice Leblanc. Translated by Alexander
  Teixeira de Mattos (Eveleigh Nash).

  [B] _813._ By Maurice Leblanc. Translated by Alexander Teixeira de
  Mattos (Mills & Boon).


He was silent; and I insisted:

"Lupin, I wish you would!"

To my astonishment, he replied:

"Take a sheet of paper, old fellow, and a pencil."

I obeyed with alacrity, delighted at the thought that he at last meant
to dictate to me some of those pages which he knows how to clothe with
such vigour and fancy, pages which I, unfortunately, am obliged to spoil
with tedious explanations and boring developments.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Quite."

"Write down, 20, 1, 11, 5, 14, 15."

"What?"

"Write it down, I tell you."

He was now sitting up, with his eyes turned to the open window and his
fingers rolling a Turkish cigarette. He continued:

"Write down, 21, 14, 14, 5...."

He stopped. Then he went on:

"3, 5, 19, 19 ..."

And, after a pause:

"5, 18, 25 ..."

Was he mad? I looked at him hard and, presently, I saw that his eyes
were no longer listless, as they had been a little before, but keen and
attentive and that they seemed to be watching, somewhere, in space, a
sight that apparently captivated them.

Meanwhile, he dictated, with intervals between each number:

"18, 9, 19, 11, 19 ..."

There was hardly anything to be seen through the window but a patch of
blue sky on the right and the front of the building opposite, an old
private house, whose shutters were closed as usual. There was nothing
particular about all this, no detail that struck me as new among those
which I had had before my eyes for years....

"1, 2...."

And suddenly I understood ...