CHAPTER XXI. LUPIN'S LUPINS
Next morning, a little before eight o'clock, Valenglay was talking in his
own flat to the Prefect of Police, and asked:
"So you think as I do, my dear Prefect? He'll come?"
"I haven't the least doubt of it, Monsieur le Président. And he will come
with the same punctuality that has been shown throughout this business. He will come, for pride's sake, at the last stroke of eight."
"You think so?"
"Monsieur le Président, I have been studying the man for months. As
things now stand, with Florence Levasseur's life in the balance, if he
has not smashed the villain whom he is hunting down, if he does not bring
him back bound hand and foot, it will mean that Florence Levasseur is
dead and that he, Arsène Lupin, is dead."
"Whereas Lupin is immortal," said Valenglay, laughing. "You're right. Besides, I agree with you entirely. No one would be more astonished than I if our good friend was not here to the minute. You say you were rung up from Angers yesterday?"
"Yes, Monsieur le Président. My men had just seen Don Luis Perenna. He
had gone in front of them, in an aeroplane. After that, they telephoned
to me again from Le Mans, where they had been searching a deserted
coach-house.
"You may be sure that the search had already been made by Lupin, and that
we shall know the results. Listen: eight o'clock!"
At the same moment they heard the throbbing of a motor car. It stopped
outside the house; and the bell rang almost immediately after. Orders had
been given beforehand. The door opened and Don Luis Perenna was shown in.
To Valenglay and the Prefect of Police his arrival was certainly not
unexpected, for they had just been saying that they would have been
surprised if he had not come. Nevertheless, their attitude showed that
astonishment which we all experience in the face of events that seem to
pass the bounds of human possibility.
"Well?" cried the Prime Minister eagerly.
"It's done, Monsieur le Président."
"Have you collared the scoundrel?"
"Yes."
"By Jove!" said Valenglay. "You're a fine fellow!" And he went on to ask, "An ogre, of course? An evil, undaunted brute?--"
"No, Monsieur le Président, a cripple, a degenerate, responsible for his
actions, certainly, but a man in whom the doctors will find every form of
wasting illness: disease of the spinal cord, tuberculosis, and all the
rest of it."
"And is that the man whom Florence Levasseur loved?"
"Monsieur le Président!" Don Luis violently protested. "Florence never
loved that wretch! She felt sorry for him, as any one would for a
fellow-creature doomed to an early death; and it was out of pity that she
allowed him to hope that she might marry him later, at some time in the
vague future."
"Are you sure of that?"
"Yes, Monsieur le Président, of that and of a good deal more besides, for
I have the proofs in my hands." Without further preamble, he continued: "Monsieur le Président, now that the man is caught, it will be easy for the police to find out every detail of his life. But meanwhile I can sum up that monstrous life for you, looking only at the criminal side of it, and passing briefly over three murders which have nothing to do with the story of the Mornington case.
"Jean Vernocq was born at Alençon and brought up at old M. Langernault's
expense. He got to know the Dedessuslamare couple, robbed them of their
money and, before they had time to lodge a complaint against the unknown
thief, took them to a barn in the village of Damigni, where, in their
despair, stupefied and besotted with drugs, they hanged themselves.
"This barn stood in a property called the Old Castle, belonging to M. Langernault, Jean Vernocq's protector, who was ill at the time. After his recovery, as he was cleaning his gun, he received a full charge of shot in the abdomen. The gun had been loaded without the old fellow's knowledge. By whom? By Jean Vernocq, who had also emptied his patron's cash box the night before ...