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アルセーヌ・ルパン「赤い絹のスカーフ」下

終盤では、ルパンの推理が実際の殺人現場で次々と裏づけられ、ガニマールは不本意ながらルパンの示した道筋をたどって犯人プレヴァイユに迫ります。最後は赤い絹のスカーフのもう一片が決定的証拠となり、さらにルパンらしい皮肉な置き土産で幕を閉じます。

動作・展開 感情・心理 危険・殺人 場面・描写 証拠・推理 重要表現

Lupin rose from his chair.

He went over to the inspector and, with his eyes in Ganimard’s, said:

“That’s all. You now know the whole story.”

“Presently, you will know the victim: some ballet-dancer, probably, some singer at a music-hall.”

“On the other hand, the chances are that the criminal lives near the Pont-Neuf, most likely on the left bank.”

“Lastly, here are all the exhibits. I make you a present of them.”

“Set to work. I shall only keep this end of the scarf.”

“If ever you want to piece the scarf together, bring me the other end, the one which the police will find round the victim’s neck.”

“Bring it me in four weeks from now to the day, that is to say, on the 29th of December, at ten o’clock in the morning.”

“You can be sure of finding me here. And don’t be afraid: this is all perfectly serious, friend of my youth; I swear it is.”

“No humbug, honour bright. You can go straight ahead.”

“Oh, by the way, when you arrest the fellow with the eyeglass, be a bit careful: he is left-handed!”

“Good-bye, old dear, and good luck to you!”

Lupin spun round on his heel, went to the door, opened it and disappeared before Ganimard had even thought of taking a decision.

The inspector rushed after him, but at once found that the handle of the door, by some trick of mechanism which he did not know, refused to turn.

It took him ten minutes to unscrew the lock and ten minutes more to unscrew the lock of the hall-door.

By the time that he had scrambled down the three flights of stairs, Ganimard had given up all hope of catching Arsene Lupin.

Besides, he was not thinking of it.

Lupin inspired him with a queer, complex feeling, made up of fear, hatred, involuntary admiration and also the vague instinct that he would never get the better of this particular adversary.

He pursued him from a sense of duty and pride, but with the continual dread of being taken in by that formidable hoaxer.

This business of the red scarf, in particular, struck him as most suspicious.

It was interesting, certainly, in more ways than one, but so very improbable!

“No,” said Ganimard, “this is all swank: a parcel of suppositions and guesswork based upon nothing at all.”

“I’m not to be caught with chaff.”

* * *

When he reached the headquarters of police, at 36 Quai des Orfevres, he had quite made up his mind to treat the incident as though it had never happened.

He went up to the Criminal Investigation Department.

Here, one of his fellow-inspectors said:

“Seen the chief?”

“No.”

“He was asking for you just now.”

“Where?”

“To the Rue de Berne … there was a murder there last night.”

“Oh! Who’s the victim?”

“I don’t know exactly … a music-hall singer, I believe.”

Ganimard simply muttered:

“By Jove!”

Twenty minutes later he stepped out of the underground railway-station and made for the Rue de Berne.

The victim, who was known in the theatrical world by her stage-name of Jenny Saphir, occupied a small flat on the second floor.

Ganimard started at the first glance which he gave into the room.

He saw, lying on a sofa, the corpse of a young woman whose hands clutched a strip of red silk!

One of the shoulders, which appeared above the low-cut bodice, bore the marks of two wounds surrounded with clotted blood.

The distorted and almost blackened features still bore an expression of frenzied terror.

The divisional surgeon said:

“My first conclusions are very clear. The victim was twice stabbed with a dagger and afterward strangled.”

“The immediate cause of death was asphyxia.”

“By Jove!” thought Ganimard again, remembering Lupin’s words and the picture which he had drawn of the crime.

“Most probably,” said the chief detective, “with this silk scarf, which the victim was wearing and a piece of which remains.”

“The other may have been stained with blood and carried off by the murderer. You can plainly distinguish the hurried slashing of the scissors.”

“By Jove!” said Ganimard, between his teeth, for the third time. “That brute of a Lupin saw everything without seeing a thing!”

The chief of the detective-service suggested that the theft of a magnificent sapphire might have been the cause of the crime.

“This is the man whom we have to find,” said M. Dudouis.

“Has he left no traces?”

“None at all. It is obvious that we have to deal with a very clever scoundrel.”

“His arrest would be a great feather in our cap. I rely on you, Ganimard.”

Ganimard did not finish his sentence until he was outside, alone.

“Only, I swear to Heaven that the arrest shall be effected by my own means, without my employing a single one of the clues with which that villain has supplied me.”

Railing against Lupin, furious at being mixed up in this business and resolved, nevertheless, to get to the bottom of it, he wandered aimlessly about the streets.

He suddenly stopped, petrified, astounded and confused.

He was walking under the gateway of the very house in the Rue de Surene to which Lupin had enticed him a few hours earlier!

A force stronger than his own will was drawing him there once more.

Abandoning all further resistance, he climbed the three flights of stairs.

The door of the flat was open. No one had touched the exhibits.

He put them in his pocket and walked away.

From that moment, he reasoned and acted, so to speak, mechanically, under the influence of the master whom he could not choose but obey.

A pastry-cook near the Gare Saint-Lazare showed him some little cardboard boxes, identical in material and shape with the one in Ganimard’s possession.

One of the shop-girls remembered having served, on the previous evening, a gentleman whose face was almost concealed in the collar of his fur coat, but whose eyeglass she had happened to notice.

“That’s one clue checked,” thought the inspector. “Our man wears an eyeglass.”

He next collected the pieces of the racing-paper and showed them to a newsvendor, who easily recognized the Turf Illustre.

Ganimard went to the offices of the Turf and asked to see the list of subscribers.

At seven o’clock in the evening, the last of his men returned and brought good news with him.

A certain M. Prevailles, a subscriber to the Turf, occupied an entresol flat on the Quai des Augustins.

This M. Prevailles wore a single eyeglass. He was a regular race-goer and himself owned several hacks.

The results obtained were so exactly in accordance with Lupin’s predictions that Ganimard felt quite overcome.

Never in the course of his life had he come across such perspicacity, such a quick and far-seeing mind.

Ganimard was eager to get the business done.

A little before nine o’clock, a gentleman in a tall hat and a fur coat was coming along the pavement beside the Seine.

Ganimard stepped forward:

“M. Prevailles, I believe?”

At the sight of the men appearing out of the shadow, Prevailles quickly retreated to the wall and faced his adversaries.

His right hand brandished a heavy stick, while his left was slipped behind him.

Ganimard remembered the warning which Lupin gave him: Prevailles was left-handed; and it was his revolver for which he was feeling behind his back.

The inspector ducked his head. Two reports rang out. No one was hit.

A second later, Prevailles received a blow under the chin from the butt-end of a revolver, which brought him down where he stood.

* * *

Ganimard enjoyed a great reputation even at that time.

But this capture, so quickly effected, by such very simple means, won him a sudden celebrity.

Prevailles was forthwith saddled with all the murders that had remained unpunished.

The newspapers vied with one another in extolling Ganimard’s prowess.

But, on the eighth day, everything was changed.

Prevailles pleaded a circumstantial alibi and maintained that he was at the Folies-Bergere on the night of the murder.

The pockets of his dinner-jacket contained the counterfoil of a stall-ticket and a programme of the performance.

“An alibi prepared in advance,” objected the examining-magistrate.

“Prove it,” said Prevailles.

The examination led to nothing of a precise character, provided no solid basis whereon to found a serious accusation.

The judge sent for Ganimard and told him of his difficulty.

“There is no evidence to support the charge.”

“I’ll tell you what we shall want, M. Ganimard, and that very soon: the other end of this red scarf.”

“Yes, for it is obvious that, if the murderer took it away with him, the reason was that the stuff is stained with the marks of the blood on his fingers.”

Ganimard made no reply.

Given the silk scarf—and in no other circumstances—Prevailles’ guilt was certain.

Unfortunately, the one and only indispensable proof was in Lupin’s pocket.

How was he to get hold of it?

On the 28th of December, the examining-magistrate stopped him in one of the passages of the Law Courts.

“Well, M. Ganimard, any news?”

“No, monsieur le juge d’instruction.”

“Then I shall dismiss the case.”

“Wait one day longer.”

“What’s the use? We want the other end of the scarf; have you got it?”

“I shall have it to-morrow.”

Ganimard came out with the piece of silk.

“Yes, I will go and fetch the proof and I shall have it too … always presuming that Master Lupin has the courage to keep the appointment.”

* * *

On the next day, which was the 29th of December, the date fixed by Lupin, Ganimard arrived with his men on the field of battle.

He posted them in a cafe and gave them formal instructions.

The chief-inspector made sure that his revolver was in working order and that he could take it from his pocket easily.

Then he went upstairs.

He was surprised to find things as he had left them, the doors open and the locks broken.

“Master Lupin was afraid,” he muttered, not without a certain satisfaction.

“Don’t be silly,” said a voice behind him.

Turning round, he saw an old workman, wearing a house-painter’s long smock, standing in the doorway.

“You needn’t bother your head,” said the man. “It’s I, Lupin.”

“I have been working in the painter’s shop since early morning.”

He looked at Ganimard with a quizzing smile and cried:

“What a reconstruction of events! What an intuition of everything that had taken place and of everything that was going to take place!”

“Have you the scarf?”

“Yes, half of it. Have you the other?”

“Here it is. Let’s compare.”

They spread the two pieces of silk on the table.

The cuts made by the scissors corresponded exactly. Moreover, the colours were identical.

“What you are interested in seeing is the marks of the blood.”

They moved into the next room, which, though it overlooked the courtyard, was lighter.

Lupin held his piece of silk against the window-pane:

“Look,” he said, making room for Ganimard.

The inspector gave a start of delight.

The marks of the five fingers and the print of the palm were distinctly visible.

The evidence was undeniable.

The murderer had seized the stuff in his bloodstained hand, in the same hand that had stabbed Jenny Saphir, and tied the scarf round her neck.

“And it is the print of a left hand,” observed Lupin.

“Hence my warning, which had nothing miraculous about it, you see.”

Ganimard had quickly pocketed the piece of silk.

Lupin nodded his head in approval:

“Quite right, old boy, it’s for you.”

“And, you see, there was no trap about all this … only the wish to oblige … a service between friends.”

“And also, I confess, a little curiosity….”

“Inside the tassel, I found a little sacred medal, which the poor girl had stitched into it to bring her luck.”

“The sapphire was hidden in the other tassel, the one which you brought me.”

Ganimard gave a start and clapped his hand to his pocket.

“Too late, friend of my youth,” said Lupin, laughing.

“The sapphire is no longer there.”

Ganimard, furious, drew his revolver.

“None of that,” said Lupin. “Your cartridges are damp.”

“Damp?”

“Yes. Old Catherine, the housekeeper, was ordered to see to that.”

Nevertheless, there was no fight.

The recollection of the earlier struggles made any present struggle useless.

Ganimard, who remembered all his past failures, did not lift a limb.

“Think of all that this incident has brought you: fame, the certainty of quick promotion and the prospect of a happy and comfortable old age!”

“Surely, you don’t want the discovery of the sapphire and the head of poor Arsene Lupin in addition!”

While chattering, Lupin had gone through the same performance as Ganimard and was now near the door.

Ganimard saw that his foe was about to escape him.

Forgetting all prudence, he tried to block his way and received a tremendous butt in the stomach.

Lupin dexterously touched a spring, turned the handle, opened the door and slipped away, roaring with laughter as he went.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, when Ganimard at last succeeded in joining his men, one of them said to him:

“A house-painter left the house, as his mates were coming back from breakfast, and put a letter in my hand.”

“Give that to your governor,” he said.

Ganimard opened the letter.

It was hurriedly scribbled in pencil and contained these words:

“This is to warn you, friend of my youth, against excessive credulity.”

“When a fellow tells you that the cartridges in your revolver are damp, however great your confidence in that fellow may be, even though his name be Arsene Lupin, never allow yourself to be taken in.”

“Fire first; and, if the fellow hops the twig, you will have acquired the proof that the cartridges are not damp.”

“And that old Catherine is the most honest and respectable of housekeepers.”

“One of these days, I hope to have the pleasure of making her acquaintance.”

“Meanwhile, friend of my youth, believe me always affectionately and sincerely yours, Arsene Lupin.”

ルパンの告白

アルセーヌ・ルパン「赤い絹のスカーフ」中 アルセーヌ・ルパン「死に影を落とされて」上