Free Arsène Lupin versus Herlock Sholmes by Maurice Leblanc Page A

him—trust him. … ”
    “You will not speak to him?”
    “Why not? It will be to my advantage to do so, and find out what he knows, and, perhaps, what he thinks. At present I have the feeling that his gaze is on my neck and shoulders, and that he is trying to remember where he has seen them before.”
    He reflected a moment. I observed a malicious smile at the corner of his mouth; then, obedient, I think, to a whim of his impulsive nature, and not to the necessities of the situation, he arose, turned around, and, with a bow and a joyous air, he said:
    “By what lucky chance? Ah! I am delighted to see you. Permit me to introduce a friend of mine.”
    For a moment the Englishman was disconcerted; then he made a movement as if he would seize Arsène Lupin. The latter shook his head, and said:
    “That would not be fair; besides, the movement would be an awkward one and … quite useless.”
    The Englishman looked about him, as if in search of assistance.
    “No use,” said Lupin. “Besides, are you quite sure you can place your hand on me? Come, now, show me that you are a real Englishman and, therefore, a good sport.”
    This advice seemed to commend itself to the detective, for he partially rose and said, very formally:
    “Monsieur Wilson, my friend and assistant—Monsieur Arsène Lupin.”
    Wilson’s amazement evoked a laugh. With bulging eyes and gaping mouth, he looked from one to the other, as if unable to comprehend the situation. Herlock Sholmes laughed and said:
    “Wilson, you should conceal your astonishment at an incident which is one of the most natural in the world.”
    “Why do you not arrest him?” stammered Wilson.
    “Have you not observed, Wilson, that the gentleman is between me and the door, and only a few steps from the door. By the time I could move my little finger he would be outside.”
    “Don’t let that make any difference,” said Lupin, who now walked around the table and seated himself so that the Englishman was between him and the door—thus placing himself at the mercy of the foreigner.
    Wilson looked at Sholmes to find out if he had the right to admire this act of wanton courage. The Englishman’s face was impenetrable; but, a moment later, he called:
    “Waiter!”
    When the waiter came he ordered soda, beer and whisky. The treaty of peace was signed—until further orders. In a few moments the four men were conversing in an apparently friendly manner.
    Herlock Sholmes is a man such as you might meet every day in the business world. He is about fifty years of age, and looks as if he might have passed his life in an office, adding up columns of dull figures or writing out formal statements of business accounts. There was nothing to distinguish him from the average citizen of London, except the appearance of his eyes, his terribly keen and penetrating eyes.
    But then he is Herlock Sholmes—which means that he is a wonderful combination of intuition, observation, clairvoyance and ingenuity. One could readily believe that nature had been pleased to take the two most extraordinary detectives that the imagination of man has hitherto conceived, the Dupin of Edgar Allen Poe and the Lecoq of Emile Gaboriau, and, out of that material, constructed a new detective, more extraordinary and supernatural than either of them. And when a person reads the history of his exploits, which have made him famous throughout the entire world, he asks himself whether Herlock Sholmes is not a mythical personage, a fictitious hero born in the brain of a great novelist—Conan Doyle, for instance.
    When Arsène Lupin questioned him in regard to the length of his sojourn in France he turned the conversation into its proper channel by saying:
    “That depends on you, monsieur.”
    “Oh!” exclaimed Lupin, laughing, “if it depends on me you can return to England to-night.”
    “That is a little too soon, but I expect to return in the course of eight or nine days—ten at the outside.”
    “Are you in such