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Updated: June 27, 2025
Why was Lupin so fiercely bent upon snatching the document about the Hollow Needle from me? He surely did not imagine that, by taking it away, he could wipe out from my memory the text of the five lines of which it consists! Then why? Did he fear that the character of the paper itself, or some other clue, could give me a hint? Be that as it may, this is the truth of the Ambrumesy mystery.
She took him to her bedroom on the third floor, overlooking the garden, and at once burst into lamentations: "More of your tricks and nothing but tricks! Why can't you leave me alone, instead of sending me to do your dirty work?" You ought to be flattered." * See The Hollow Needle by Maurice Leblanc, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos, and later volumes of the Lupin series.
They expected from him what they were entitled to expect at most from some phenomenon of penetration and intuition, of experience and skill. That day of the sixth of June was made to sprawl over all the papers. On the sixth of June, Isidore Beautrelet would take the fast train to Dieppe: and Lupin would be arrested on the same evening.
"I'm coming... I'm coming..." Daubrecq rose hurriedly from his seat and followed the clerk to the box-office. He was not yet out of sight when Lupin sprang from his box, worked the lock of the next door and sat down beside the lady. She gave a stifled cry. "Hush!" he said. "I have to speak to you. It is most important." "Ah!" she said, between her teeth. "Arsene Lupin!" He was dumbfounded.
Then, growing calmer and not fully understanding what he had said, he tried to jest: "I have been delirious, have I not? What a heap of nonsense I must have talked!" But Lupin felt by Clarisse's silence that he could safely talk as much nonsense as ever his fever suggested to him. She did not hear.
Clarisse uttered a cry. It was the crystal stopper. She rushed at Lupin and snatched it from him: "That's it; that's the one!" she exclaimed, feverishly. "There's no scratch on the stem!
"Well, I'll make it clear to you. One morning papa received a letter but wait. Sonia, get me the Lupin papers out of the bureau." Sonia rose from the writing-table, and went to a bureau, an admirable example of the work of the great English maker, Chippendale.
He discovered the intense life in the eyes, he filled up the shrunken features, he perceived the real flesh beneath the flabby skin, the real mouth through the grimaces that deformed it. Those were the eyes and mouth of the other, and especially his keen, alert, mocking expression, so clear and youthful! "Arsene Lupin, Arsene Lupin," he stammered.
"Any one would have said you were twin brothers." "It gave me quite a shock the first time I saw his portrait," said Lupin. "You remember, Charolais? It was three years ago, the day, or rather the night, of the first Gournay-Martin burglary at Charmerace. Do you remember?" "Do I remember?" said Charolais. "It was I who pointed out the likeness to you.
The advocate-general, the presiding judge, the jury, the counsel, the witnesses had no other words on their lips. Every moment, Lupin was mentioned and cursed at, scoffed at, insulted and held responsible for all the crimes committed.
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