stood beside the piano.
An hour later, the count went to bed, as did his two cousins, the d'Andelles, and Madame de Réal, an intimate friend of the Comtesse de Crozon, who remained behind with Herr Bleichen, the Austrian consul, and his wife.
They sat and talked and then the countess turned down the big lamp which stood on the drawing-room table. At the same moment, Herr Bleichen put out the two lamps on the piano. There was a second's darkness and groping; then the consul lit a candle and they all three went to their rooms. But, the instant the countess reached hers, she remembered her jewels and told her maid to go and fetch them. The woman returned and placed them on the mantel-piece. Madame de Crozon did not examine them; but, the next morning, she noticed that one of the rings was missing, the ring with the blue diamond.
She told her husband. Both immediately came to the same conclusion: the maid being above suspicion, the thief could be none but Herr Bleichen.
The count informed the central commissary of police at Amiens, who opened an inquiry and arranged discreetly for the house to be constantly watched, so as to prevent the Austrian consul from selling or sending away the ring. The château was surrounded by detectives night and day.
A fortnight elapsed without the least incident. Then Herr Bleichen announced his intention of leaving. On the same day, a formal accusation was laid against him. The commissary made an official visit and ordered the luggage to be examined. In a small bag of which the consul always carried the key, they found a flask containing tooth-powder; and, inside the flask, the ring!
Mrs. Bleichen fainted. Her husband was arrested.
My readers will remember the defense set up by the accused. He was unable, he said, to explain the presence of the ring, unless it was there as the result of an act of revenge on the part of M. de Crozon:
"The count ill-treats his wife," he declared, "and makes her life a misery. I had a long conversation with her and warmly urged her to sue for a divorce. The count must have heard of this and revenged himself by taking the ring and slipping it into my dressing-bag when I was about to leave."
The count and countess persisted in their charge. It was an even choice between their explanation and the consul's: both were equally probable. No new fact came to weigh down either scale. A month of gossip, of guess-work and investigations, failed to produce a single element of certainty.
Annoyed by all this worry and unable to bring forward a definite proof of guilt to justify their accusation, M. and Madame de Crozon wrote to Paris for a detective capable of unravelling the threads of the skein. The police sent Ganimard.
For four days the old inspector rummaged and hunted about, strolled in the park, had long talks with the maids, the chauffeur, the gardeners, the people of the nearest post-offices, and examined the rooms occupied by the Bleichen couple, the d'Andelle cousins and Madame de Réal. Then, one morning, he disappeared without taking leave of his hosts.
But, a week later, they received this telegram:
"Please meet me five o'clock to-morrow, Friday afternoon at Thé Japonais, Rue Boissy-d'Anglas.
"Ganimard."
At five o'clock to the minute, on the Friday, their motor-car drew up in front of 9, Rue Boissy-d'Anglas. The old inspector was waiting for them on the pavement and, without a word of explanation, led them up to the first-floor of the Thé Japonais.
In one of the rooms they found two persons, whom Ganimard introduced to them.
"M. Gerbois, professor at Versailles College, whom, you will remember, Arsène Lupin robbed of half a million.... M. Léonce d'Hautrec, nephew and residuary legatee of the late Baron d'Hautrec."
The four sat down. A few minutes later, a fifth arrived. It was the chief of the detective-service.
M. Dudouis appeared to be in a rather bad temper. He bowed and said:
"Well, what is it, Ganimard? They gave me your telephone message at headquarters. Is it serious?"
"Very serious, chief. In less than an hour, the last adventures in which I have assisted will come to an issue here. I considered that your presence was indispensable."
"And does this apply also to the presence of Dieuzy and Folenfant, whom I see below, hanging round the door?"
"Yes, chief."
"And what for? Is somebody to be arrested? What a melodramatic display! Well, Ganimard, say what you have to say."
Ganimard hesitated for a few moments and then, with the evident intention of impressing his hearers, said:
"First of all, I wish to state that Herr Bleichen had nothing to do with the theft of the ring."
"Oh," said M. Dudouis, "that's a mere statement … and a serious one!"
And the count asked:
"Is this … discovery the only thing that has come of your exertions?"
"No, sir. Two days after the theft, three of your guests happened to be at Crécy, in the course of a motor-trip. Two of them went on to visit the famous battlefield, while the third hurried to the post-office and sent off a little parcel, packed up and sealed according to the regulations and insured to the value of one hundred francs."
M. de Crozon objected:
"There is nothing out of the way in that."
"Perhaps you will think it less natural when I tell you that, instead of the real name, the sender gave the name of Rousseau and that the addressee, a M. Beloux, residing in Paris, changed his lodgings on the very evening of the day on which he received the parcel, that is to say, the ring."
"Was it one of my d'Andelle cousins, by any chance?" asked the count.
"No, it was neither of those gentlemen."
"Then it was Mme. de Réal?"
"Yes."
The countess, in amazement, exclaimed:
"Do you accuse my friend Mme. de Réal?"
"A simple question, madame," replied Ganimard. "Was Mme. de Réal present at the sale of the blue diamond?"
"Yes, but in a different part of the room. We were not together."
"Did she advise you to buy the ring?"
The countess collected her memory:
"Yes … as a matter of fact.... I think she was the first to mention it to me."
"I note your answer, madame," said Ganimard. "So it is quite certain that it was Mme. de Réal who first spoke to you of the ring and advised you to buy it."
"Still … my friend is incapable...."
"I beg your pardon, I beg your pardon, Mme. de Réal is only your chance acquaintance and not an intimate friend, as the newspapers stated, thus diverting suspicion from her. You have only known her since last winter. Now I can undertake to prove to you that all that she has told you about herself, her past, her connections is absolutely false; that Mme. Blanche de Réal did not exist before she met you; and that she has ceased to exist at this present moment."
"Well?" said M. Dudouis, "what next?"
