The Crystal Stopper [16]
alone, instead of sending me to do your dirty work?"
"How can I help it, you dear old Victoire?* When I want a person of respectable appearance and incorruptible morals, I think of you. You ought to be flattered." ________________________________________________________________________
*See The Hollow Needle by Maurice Leblanc, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos, and later volumes of the Lupin series. ________________________________________________________________________
"That's all you care about me!" she cried. "You run me into danger once more; and you think it's funny!"
"What are you risking?" "How do you mean, what am I risking? All my characters are false."
"Characters are always false."
"And suppose M. Daubrecq finds out? Suppose he makes inquiries?"
"He has made inquiries."
"Eh? What's that?"
"He has telephoned to the steward of Comte Saulevat, in whose service you say that you have had the honour of being."
"There, you see, I'm done for!"
"The count's steward could not say enough in your praise."
"He does not know me."
"But I know him. I got him his situation with Comte Saulevat. So you understand... "
Victoire seemed to calm down a little:
"Well," she said, "God's will be done... or rather yours. And what do you expect me to do in all this?"
"First, to put me up. You were my wet-nurse once. You can very well give me half your room now. I'll sleep in the armchair."
"And next?"
"Next? To supply me with such food as I want."
"And next?"
"Next? To undertake, with me and under my direction, a regular series of searches with a view... "
"To what?"
"To discovering the precious object of which I spoke to you."
"What's that?"
"A crystal stopper."
"A crystal stopper... Saints above! A nice business! And, if we don't find your confounded stopper, what then?"
Lupin took her gently by the arm and, in a serious voice:
"If we don't find it, Gilbert, young Gilbert whom you know and love, will stand every chance of losing his head; and so will Vaucheray."
"Vaucheray I don't mind... a dirty rascal like him! But Gilbert... "
"Have you seen the papers this evening? Things are looking worse than ever. Vaucheray, as might be expected, accuses Gilbert of stabbing the valet; and it so happens that the knife which Vaucheray used belonged to Gilbert. That came out this morning. Whereupon Gilbert, who is intelligent in his way, but easily frightened, blithered and launched forth into stories and lies which will end in his undoing. That's how the matter stands. Will you help me?"
Thenceforth, for several days, Lupin moulded his existence upon Daubrecq's, beginning his investigations the moment the deputy left the house. He pursued them methodically, dividing each room into sections which he did not abandon until he had been through the tiniest nooks and corners and, so to speak, exhausted every possible device.
Victoire searched also. And nothing was forgotten. Table-legs, chair-rungs, floor-boards, mouldings, mirror- and picture-frames, clocks, plinths, curtain-borders, telephone-holders and electric fittings: everything that an ingenious imagination could have selected as a hiding-place was overhauled.
And they also watched the deputy's least actions, his most unconscious movements, the expression of his face, the books which he read and the letters which he wrote.
It was easy enough. He seemed to live his life in the light of day. No door was ever shut. He received no visits. And his existence worked with mechanical regularity. He went to the Chamber in the afternoon, to the club in the evening.
"Still," said Lupin, "there must be something that's not orthodox behind all this."
"There's nothing of the sort," moaned Victoire. "You're wasting your time and we shall be bowled out."
The presence of the detectives and their habit of walking up and down outside the windows drove her mad. She refused to admit that they were there for any other purpose than to trap her, Victoire. And,
"How can I help it, you dear old Victoire?* When I want a person of respectable appearance and incorruptible morals, I think of you. You ought to be flattered." ________________________________________________________________________
*See The Hollow Needle by Maurice Leblanc, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos, and later volumes of the Lupin series. ________________________________________________________________________
"That's all you care about me!" she cried. "You run me into danger once more; and you think it's funny!"
"What are you risking?" "How do you mean, what am I risking? All my characters are false."
"Characters are always false."
"And suppose M. Daubrecq finds out? Suppose he makes inquiries?"
"He has made inquiries."
"Eh? What's that?"
"He has telephoned to the steward of Comte Saulevat, in whose service you say that you have had the honour of being."
"There, you see, I'm done for!"
"The count's steward could not say enough in your praise."
"He does not know me."
"But I know him. I got him his situation with Comte Saulevat. So you understand... "
Victoire seemed to calm down a little:
"Well," she said, "God's will be done... or rather yours. And what do you expect me to do in all this?"
"First, to put me up. You were my wet-nurse once. You can very well give me half your room now. I'll sleep in the armchair."
"And next?"
"Next? To supply me with such food as I want."
"And next?"
"Next? To undertake, with me and under my direction, a regular series of searches with a view... "
"To what?"
"To discovering the precious object of which I spoke to you."
"What's that?"
"A crystal stopper."
"A crystal stopper... Saints above! A nice business! And, if we don't find your confounded stopper, what then?"
Lupin took her gently by the arm and, in a serious voice:
"If we don't find it, Gilbert, young Gilbert whom you know and love, will stand every chance of losing his head; and so will Vaucheray."
"Vaucheray I don't mind... a dirty rascal like him! But Gilbert... "
"Have you seen the papers this evening? Things are looking worse than ever. Vaucheray, as might be expected, accuses Gilbert of stabbing the valet; and it so happens that the knife which Vaucheray used belonged to Gilbert. That came out this morning. Whereupon Gilbert, who is intelligent in his way, but easily frightened, blithered and launched forth into stories and lies which will end in his undoing. That's how the matter stands. Will you help me?"
Thenceforth, for several days, Lupin moulded his existence upon Daubrecq's, beginning his investigations the moment the deputy left the house. He pursued them methodically, dividing each room into sections which he did not abandon until he had been through the tiniest nooks and corners and, so to speak, exhausted every possible device.
Victoire searched also. And nothing was forgotten. Table-legs, chair-rungs, floor-boards, mouldings, mirror- and picture-frames, clocks, plinths, curtain-borders, telephone-holders and electric fittings: everything that an ingenious imagination could have selected as a hiding-place was overhauled.
And they also watched the deputy's least actions, his most unconscious movements, the expression of his face, the books which he read and the letters which he wrote.
It was easy enough. He seemed to live his life in the light of day. No door was ever shut. He received no visits. And his existence worked with mechanical regularity. He went to the Chamber in the afternoon, to the club in the evening.
"Still," said Lupin, "there must be something that's not orthodox behind all this."
"There's nothing of the sort," moaned Victoire. "You're wasting your time and we shall be bowled out."
The presence of the detectives and their habit of walking up and down outside the windows drove her mad. She refused to admit that they were there for any other purpose than to trap her, Victoire. And,