Part 14 (1/2)
The inspector, without replying, spread four sheets of paper on the table.
”Lastly,” he said, ”here, on these four sheets, we have a specimen of the handwriting of Antoinette Brehat, another of the lady who sent a note to Baron Herschmann during the sale of the blue diamond, another of Mme. de Real, at the time of her stay at Crozon, and the fourth ... your own, madame ... your name and address given by yourself to the hall-porter of the Hotel Beaurivage at Trouville. Now, please compare these four handwritings. They are one and the same.”
”But you are mad, sir, you are mad! What does all this mean?”
”It means, madame,” cried Ganimard, with a great outburst, ”that the blonde lady, the friend and accomplice of a.r.s.ene Lupin, is none other than yourself.”
He pushed open the door of the next room, rushed at M. Gerbois, shoved him along by the shoulders and, planting him in front of Mme. Real:
”M. Gerbois, do you recognize the person who took away your daughter and whom you saw at Maitre Detinan's?”
”No.”
There was a commotion of which every one felt the shock. Ganimard staggered back:
”No?... Is it possible?... Come, just think....”
”I have thought.... Madame is fair, like the blonde lady ... and pale, like her ... but she doesn't resemble her in the least.”
”I can't believe it ... a mistake like that is inconceivable....
M. d'Hautrec, do you recognize Antoinette Brehat?”
”I have seen Antoinette Brehat at my uncle's ... this is not she.”
”And madame is not Mme. de Real, either,” declared the Comte de Crozon.
This was the finis.h.i.+ng stroke. It stunned Ganimard, who stood motionless, with hanging head and s.h.i.+fting eyes. Of all his contrivances, nothing remained. The whole edifice was tumbling about his shoulders.
M. Dudouis rose:
”I must beg you to forgive us, madame. There has been a regrettable confusion of ident.i.ties, which I will ask you to forget. But what I cannot well understand is your agitation ... the strangeness of your manner since you arrived....”
”Why, monsieur, I was frightened ... there is over a hundred thousand francs' worth of jewels in my bag ... and your friend's att.i.tude was not very rea.s.suring.”
”But your continual absences?...”
”Surely my occupation demands them?”
M. Dudouis had no reply to make. He turned to his subordinate:
”You have made your inquiries with a deplorable want of thoroughness, Ganimard, and your behaviour toward madame just now was uncouth. You shall give me an explanation in my office.”
The interview was over and the chief of the detective service was about to take his leave, when a really disconcerting thing happened. Mme. Real went up to the inspector and said:
”Do I understand your name to be M. Ganimard?... Did I catch the name right?”
”Yes.”
”In that case, this letter must be for you. I received it this morning, addressed as you see: 'M. Justin Ganimard, care of Mme. Real.' I thought it was a joke, as I did not know you under that name, but I have no doubt the writer, whoever he is, knew of your appointment.”