Was he serious? Or was he joking? He became more animated as he proceeded:
"That is everything, do you understand, the danger! The continuous feeling of danger! To breathe it as you breathe the air, to scent it in every breath of wind, to detect it in every unusual sound.... And, in the midst of the tempest, to remain calm ... and not to stumble! Otherwise, you are lost. There is only one sensation equal to it: that of the chauffeur in an automobile race. But that race lasts only a few hours; my race continues until death!"
"What fantasy!" I exclaimed. "And you wish me to believe that you have no particular motive for your adoption of that exciting life?"
"Come," he said, with a smile, "you are a clever psychologist. Work it out for yourself."
He poured himself a glass of water, drank it, and said:
"Did you read 'Le Temps' to-day?"
"No."
"Herlock Sholmes crossed the Channel this afternoon, and arrived in Paris about six o'clock."
"The deuce! What is he coming for?"
"A little journey he has undertaken at the request of the Count and Countess of Crozon, Monsieur Gerbois, and the nephew of Baron d'Hautrec. They met him at the Northern Railway station, took him to meet Ganimard, and, at this moment, the six of them are holding a consultation."
Despite a strong temptation to do so, I had never ventured to question Arsène Lupin concerning any action of his private life, unless he had first mentioned the subject to me. Up to that moment his name had not been mentioned, at least officially, in connection with the blue diamond. Consequently, I consumed my curiosity in patience. He continued:
"There is also in 'Le Temps' an interview with my old friend Ganimard, according to whom a certain blonde lady, who should be my friend, must have murdered the Baron d'Hautrec and tried to rob Madame de Crozon of her famous ring. And—what do you think?—he accuses me of being the instigator of those crimes."
I could not suppress a slight shudder. Was this true? Must I believe that his career of theft, his mode of existence, the logical result of such a life, had drawn that man into more serious crimes, including murder? I looked at him. He was so calm, and his eyes had such a frank expression! I observed his hands: they had been formed from a model of exceeding delicacy, long and slender; inoffensive, truly; and the hands of an artist....
"Ganimard has pipe-dreams," I said.
"No, no!" protested Lupin. "Ganimard has some cleverness; and, at times, almost inspiration."
"Inspiration!"
"Yes. For instance, that interview is a master-stroke. In the first place, he announces the coming of his English rival in order to put me on my guard, and make his task more difficult. In the second place, he indicates the exact point to which he has conducted the affair in order that Sholmes will not get credit for the work already done by Ganimard. That is good warfare."
"Whatever it may be, you have two adversaries to deal with, and such adversaries!"
"Oh! one of them doesn't count."
"And the other?"
"Sholmes? Oh! I confess he is a worthy foe; and that explains my present good humor. In the first place, it is a question of self-esteem; I am pleased to know that they consider me a subject worthy the attention of the celebrated English detective. In the next place, just imagine the pleasure a man, such as I, must experience in the thought of a duel with Herlock Sholmes. But I shall be obliged to strain every muscle; he is a clever fellow, and will contest every inch of the ground."
"Then you consider him a strong opponent?"
"I do. As a detective, I believe, he has never had an equal. But I have one advantage over him; he is making the attack and I am simply defending myself. My rôle is the easier one. Besides, I am familiar with his method of warfare, and he does not know mine. I am prepared to show him a few new tricks that will give him something to think about."
He tapped the table with his fingers as he uttered the following sentences, with an air of keen delight:
"Arsène Lupin against Herlock Sholmes.... France against England.... Trafalgar will be revenged at last.... Ah! the rascal ... he doesn't suspect that I am prepared ... and a Lupin warned—"
He stopped suddenly, seized with a fit of coughing, and hid his face in his napkin, as if something had stuck in his throat.
"A bit of bread?" I inquired. "Drink some water."
"No, it isn't that," he replied, in a stifled voice.
"Then, what is it?"
"The want of air."
"Do you wish a window opened?"
"No, I shall go out. Give me my hat and overcoat, quick! I must go."
"What's the matter?"
"The two gentlemen who came in just now.... Look at the taller one ... now, when we go out, keep to my left, so he will not see me."
"The one who is sitting behind you?"
"Yes. I will explain it to you, outside."
"Who is it?"
"Herlock Sholmes."
He made a desperate effort to control himself, as if he were ashamed of his emotion, replaced his napkin, drank a glass of water, and, quite recovered, said to me, smiling:
"It is strange, hein, that I should be affected so easily, but that unexpected sight—"
"What have you to fear, since no one can recognize you, on account of your many transformations? Every time I see you it seems to me your face is changed; it's not at all familiar. I don't know why."
"But he would recognize me," said Lupin. "He has seen me only once; but, at that time, he made a mental photograph of me—not of my external appearance but of my very soul—not what I appear to be but just what I am. Do you understand? And then ... and then.... I did not expect to meet him here.... Such a strange encounter!... in this little restaurant...."
"Well, shall we go out?"
"No, not now," said Lupin.
"What are you going to do?"
"The better way is to act frankly ... to have confidence in 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.
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