The Hollow Needle
FURTHER ADVENTURES OF ARSÈNE LUPIN
by Maurice Leblanc
AUTHOR OF
“ARSÈNE LUPIN,” “THE BLONDE LADY,” ETC.
TRANSLATED BY ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS
Contents
ILLUSTRATIONS
Valméras loved Raymonde’s melancholy charm
She put the gun to her shoulder, calmly took aim and fired
Two huge letters, each perhaps a foot long, appeared cut in relief in thegranite of the floor
“We’re going now. What do you think of my cockle-shell,Beautrelet?”
THE HOLLOW NEEDLE
CHAPTER ONE
THE SHOT
Raymonde listened. The noise was repeated twice over, clearly enough to bedistinguished from the medley of vague sounds that formed the great silence ofthe night and yet too faintly to enable her to tell whether it was near or far,within the walls of the big country-house, or outside, among the murky recessesof the park.
She rose softly. Her window was half open: she flung it back wide. Themoonlight lay over a peaceful landscape of lawns and thickets, against whichthe straggling ruins of the old abbey stood out in tragic outlines, truncatedcolumns, mutilated arches, fragments of porches and shreds of flyingbuttresses. A light breeze hovered over the face of things, gliding noiselesslythrough the bare motionless branches of the trees, but shaking the tiny buddingleaves of the shrubs.
And, suddenly, she heard the same sound again. It was on the left and on thefloor below her, in the living rooms, therefore, that occupied the left wing ofthe house. Brave and plucky though she was, the girl felt afraid. She slippedon her dressing gown and took the matches.
“Raymonde—Raymonde!”
A voice as low as a breath was calling to her from the next room, the door ofwhich had not been closed. She was feeling her way there, when Suzanne, hercousin, came out of the room and fell into her arms:
“Raymonde—is that you? Did you hear—?”
“Yes. So you’re not asleep?”
“I suppose the dog woke me—some time ago. But he’s notbarking now. What time is it?”
“About four.”
“Listen! Surely, some one’s walking in the drawing room!”
“There’s no danger, your father is down there, Suzanne.”
“But there is danger for him. His room is next to the boudoir.”
“M. Daval is there too—”
“At the other end of the house. He could never hear.”
They hesitated, not knowing what course to decide upon. Should they call out?Cry for help? They dared not; they were frightened of the sound of their ownvoices. But Suzanne, who had gone to the window, suppressed a scream: