The Extraordinary Adventures of Arsène Lupin, Gentleman-Burglar | Page 2

most rigorous discretion. The
same day, no one knew how, the incident became a matter of current gossip and every
passenger was aware that the famous Arsène Lupin was hiding in our midst.
Arsène Lupin in our midst! the irresponsible burglar whose exploits had been narrated in
all the newspapers during the past few months! the mysterious individual with whom
Ganimard, our shrewdest detective, had been engaged in an implacable conflict amidst
interesting and picturesque surroundings. Arsène Lupin, the eccentric gentleman who
operates only in the chateaux and salons, and who, one night, entered the residence of
Baron Schormann, but emerged empty-handed, leaving, however, his card on which he
had scribbled these words: "Arsène Lupin, gentleman- burglar, will return when the
furniture is genuine." Arsène Lupin, the man of a thousand disguises: in turn a chauffer,
detective, bookmaker, Russian physician, Spanish bull-fighter, commercial traveler,
robust youth, or decrepit old man.
Then consider this startling situation: Arsène Lupin was wandering about within the
limited bounds of a transatlantic steamer; in that very small corner of the world, in that
dining saloon, in that smoking room, in that music room! Arsène Lupin was, perhaps, this
gentleman....or that one....my neighbor at the table.... the sharer of my stateroom....
"And this condition of affairs will last for five days!" exclaimed Miss Nelly Underdown,
next morning. "It is unbearable! I hope he will be arrested."
Then, addressing me, she added:
"And you, Monsieur d'Andrézy, you are on intimate terms with the captain; surely you
know something?"
I should have been delighted had I possessed any information that would interest Miss
Nelly. She was one of those magnificent creatures who inevitably attract attention in
every assembly. Wealth and beauty form an irresistible combination, and Nelly possessed
both.
Educated in Paris under the care of a French mother, she was now going to visit her
father, the millionaire Underdown of Chicago. She was accompanied by one of her
friends, Lady Jerland.
At first, I had decided to open a flirtation with her; but, in the rapidly growing intimacy
of the voyage, I was soon impressed by her charming manner and my feelings became

too deep and reverential for a mere flirtation. Moreover, she accepted my attentions with
a certain degree of favor. She condescended to laugh at my witticisms and display an
interest in my stories. Yet I felt that I had a rival in the person of a young man with quiet
and refined tastes; and it struck me, at times, that she preferred his taciturn humor to my
Parisian frivolity. He formed one in the circle of admirers that surrounded Miss Nelly at
the time she addressed to me the foregoing question. We were all comfortably seated in
out deck-chairs. The storm of the preceding evening had cleared the sky. The weather
was now delightful.
"I have no definite knowledge, mademoiselle," I replied, "but can not we, ourselves,
investigate the mystery quite as well as the detective Ganimard, the personal enemy of
Arsène Lupin?"
"Oh! oh! you are progressing very fast, monsieur."
"Not at all, mademoiselle. In the first place, let me ask, do you find the problem a
complicated one?"
"Very complicated."
"Have you forgotten the key we hold for the solution to the problem?"
"What key?"
"In the first place, Lupin calls himself Monsieur R-------."
"Rather vague information," she replied.
"Secondly, he is traveling alone."
"Does that help you?" she asked.
"Thirdly, he is blonde."
"Well?"
"Then we have only to peruse the passenger-list, and proceed by process of elimination."
I had that list in my pocket. I took it out and glanced through it. Then I remarked:
"I find that there are only thirteen men on the passenger-list whose names begin with the
letter R."
"Only thirteen?"
"Yes, in the first cabin. And of those thirteen, I find that nine of them are accompanied by
women, children or servants. That leaves only four who are traveling alone. First, the
Marquis de Raverdan----"

"Secretary to the American Ambassador," interrupted Miss Nelly. "I know him."
"Major Rawson," I continued.
"He is my uncle," some one said.
"Mon. Rivolta."
"Here!" exclaimed an Italian, whose face was concealed beneath a heavy black beard.
Miss Nelly burst into laughter, and exclaimed: "That gentleman can scarcely be called a
blonde."
"Very well, then," I said, "we are forced to the conclusion that the guilty party is the last
one on the list."
"What is his name?"
"Mon. Rozaine. Does anyone know him?"
No one answered. But Miss Nelly turned to the taciturn young man, whose attentions to
her had annoyed me, and said:
"Well, Monsieur Rozaine, why do you not answer?"
All eyes were now turned upon him. He was a blonde. I must confess that I myself felt a
shock of surprise, and the profound silence that followed her