no time to lose. Monsieur and Madame de Crozon, will you be kind enough to go into the next room. You also, Monsieur d’Hautrec, and you, Monsieur Gerbois. The door will remain open, and when I give the signal, you will come out. Of course, Chief, you will remain here.”
“We may be disturbed by other people,” said Mon. Dudouis.
“No. This is a new establishment, and the proprietor is one of my friends. He will not let anyone disturb us—except the Blonde Lady.”
“The Blonde Lady! What do you mean?”
“Yes, the Blonde Lady herself, chief; the friend and accomplice of Arsène Lupin, the mysterious Blonde Lady against whom I hold convincing evidence; but, in addition to that, I wish to confront her with all the people she has robbed.”
He looked through the window.
“I see her. She is coming in the door now. She can’t escape: Folenfant and Dieuzy are guarding the door … The Blonde Lady is captured at last, Chief!”
A moment later a woman appeared at the door; she was tall and slender, with a very pale complexion and bright golden hair. Ganimard trembled with excitement; he could not move, nor utter a word. She was there, in front of him, at his mercy! What a victory over Arsène Lupin! And what a revenge! And, at the same time, the victory was such an easy one that he asked himself if the Blonde Lady would not yet slip through his fingers by one of those miracles that usually terminated the exploits of Arsène Lupin. She remained standing near the door, surprised at the silence, and looked about her without any display of suspicion or fear.
“She will get away! She will disappear!” thought Ganimard.
Then he managed to get between her and the door. She turned to go out.
“No, no!” he said. “Why are you going away?”
“Really, monsieur, I do not understand what this means. Allow me—”
“There is no reason why you should go, madame, and very good reasons why you should remain.”
“But—”
“It is useless, madame. You cannot go.”
Trembling, she sat on a chair, and stammered:
“What is it you want?”
Ganimard had won the battle and captured the Blonde Lady. He said to her:
“Allow me to present the friend I mentioned, who desires to purchase some diamonds. Have you procured the stones you promised to bring?”
“No—no—I don’t know. I don’t remember.”
“Come! Jog your memory! A person of your acquaintance intended to send you a tinted stone … ‘Something like the blue diamond,’ I said, laughing; and you replied: ‘Exactly, I expect to have just what you want.’ Do you remember?”
She made no reply. A small satchel fell from her hand. She picked it up quickly, and held it securely. Her hands trembled slightly.
“Come!” said Ganimard, “I see you have no confidence in us, Madame de Réal. I shall set you a good example by showing you what I have.”
He took from his pocketbook a paper which he unfolded, and disclosed a lock of hair.
“These are a few hairs torn from the head of Antoinette Bréhat by the Baron d’Hautrec, which I found clasped in his dead hand. I have shown them to Mlle. Gerbois, who declares they are of the exact color of the hair of the Blonde Lady. Besides, they are exactly the color of your hair—the identical color.”
Madame Réal looked at him in bewilderment, as if she did not understand his meaning. He continued:
“And here are two perfume bottles, without labels, it is true, and empty, but still sufficiently impregnated with their odor to enable Mlle. Gerbois to recognize in them the perfume used by that Blonde Lady who was her travelling companion for two weeks. Now, one of these bottles was found in the room that Madame de Réal occupied at the Château de Crozon, and the other in the room that you occupied at the Hôtel Beaurivage.”
“What do you say? … The Blonde Lady … the Château de Crozon … ”
The detective did not reply. He took from his pocket and placed on the table, side by side, four small
“We may be disturbed by other people,” said Mon. Dudouis.
“No. This is a new establishment, and the proprietor is one of my friends. He will not let anyone disturb us—except the Blonde Lady.”
“The Blonde Lady! What do you mean?”
“Yes, the Blonde Lady herself, chief; the friend and accomplice of Arsène Lupin, the mysterious Blonde Lady against whom I hold convincing evidence; but, in addition to that, I wish to confront her with all the people she has robbed.”
He looked through the window.
“I see her. She is coming in the door now. She can’t escape: Folenfant and Dieuzy are guarding the door … The Blonde Lady is captured at last, Chief!”
A moment later a woman appeared at the door; she was tall and slender, with a very pale complexion and bright golden hair. Ganimard trembled with excitement; he could not move, nor utter a word. She was there, in front of him, at his mercy! What a victory over Arsène Lupin! And what a revenge! And, at the same time, the victory was such an easy one that he asked himself if the Blonde Lady would not yet slip through his fingers by one of those miracles that usually terminated the exploits of Arsène Lupin. She remained standing near the door, surprised at the silence, and looked about her without any display of suspicion or fear.
“She will get away! She will disappear!” thought Ganimard.
Then he managed to get between her and the door. She turned to go out.
“No, no!” he said. “Why are you going away?”
“Really, monsieur, I do not understand what this means. Allow me—”
“There is no reason why you should go, madame, and very good reasons why you should remain.”
“But—”
“It is useless, madame. You cannot go.”
Trembling, she sat on a chair, and stammered:
“What is it you want?”
Ganimard had won the battle and captured the Blonde Lady. He said to her:
“Allow me to present the friend I mentioned, who desires to purchase some diamonds. Have you procured the stones you promised to bring?”
“No—no—I don’t know. I don’t remember.”
“Come! Jog your memory! A person of your acquaintance intended to send you a tinted stone … ‘Something like the blue diamond,’ I said, laughing; and you replied: ‘Exactly, I expect to have just what you want.’ Do you remember?”
She made no reply. A small satchel fell from her hand. She picked it up quickly, and held it securely. Her hands trembled slightly.
“Come!” said Ganimard, “I see you have no confidence in us, Madame de Réal. I shall set you a good example by showing you what I have.”
He took from his pocketbook a paper which he unfolded, and disclosed a lock of hair.
“These are a few hairs torn from the head of Antoinette Bréhat by the Baron d’Hautrec, which I found clasped in his dead hand. I have shown them to Mlle. Gerbois, who declares they are of the exact color of the hair of the Blonde Lady. Besides, they are exactly the color of your hair—the identical color.”
Madame Réal looked at him in bewilderment, as if she did not understand his meaning. He continued:
“And here are two perfume bottles, without labels, it is true, and empty, but still sufficiently impregnated with their odor to enable Mlle. Gerbois to recognize in them the perfume used by that Blonde Lady who was her travelling companion for two weeks. Now, one of these bottles was found in the room that Madame de Réal occupied at the Château de Crozon, and the other in the room that you occupied at the Hôtel Beaurivage.”
“What do you say? … The Blonde Lady … the Château de Crozon … ”
The detective did not reply. He took from his pocket and placed on the table, side by side, four small
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