The doorbell awakened the guard of the quiet apartment building. He glanced at his watch. It was three o'clock in the morning.
"It must be an emergency for the doctor on the third floor," he murmured as he got up to open the door for the visitor.
Once inside, the visitor silently ascended the stairs, and without stopping at the third floor, proceeded up to the fifth floor. There he tried two keys in the lock. One of them fit.
"Perfect," he said, and he waited a few minutes before descending to the lobby. "That's enough time for the guard to assume I have seen the doctor," he thought. The visitor exited the building noisily so the guard would believe he had left, but he stuck something in the lock so it would not bolt. A few minutes later, he quietly entered again, went up to the fifth floor, and sneaked into the dark apartment. He took out a floor plan of the apartment and shined a flashlight on it.
"This corridor leads to the bedrooms," he thought. "A closet door connects to the countess' bedroom." He turned off the flashlight and walked to the closet. He was about to pick the lock, but the door opened easily. "You are lucky, Lupin," he whispered to himself. He stepped inside the closet and easily picked the lock on the door leading to the bedroom. "According to the floor plan," thought Lupin, "there's a small table by the bed. The black pearl will be inside a box of stationery on that table."
The Countess Zalti, whose bedroom floor Lupin now was creeping across, had once been the most admired woman in Paris. She had owned exquisite jewelry, worn fine clothes, and traveled to exotic places, but then lost her fortune and now had just a small apartment, a manservant, and a housekeeper. To sustain herself, she had sold all her jewels except for the famous black pearl. It was worth more than all the other jewels combined, and she would not part with it.
Lupin had almost reached the table when his fingers touched something on the floor.
"An overturned candlestick? Strange!" he thought. Then his hand brushed against something else—hair, and after that an ice-cold face. Lupin froze and nearly screamed.
"Countess Zalti," he whispered. He quickly turned on his flashlight, stood up, and surveyed the room. He saw signs of a struggle—an overturned chair, a small clock with its hands stopped at 11:20. Then, his heart beating wildly, he saw the countess lying motionless on the floor, with a red gash across her neck. Blood was everywhere.
"She's dead," thought Lupin. Then he remembered the black pearl and looked in the box of stationery. It was empty! Lupin collapsed onto a chair to think. Forty minutes later he left the building.
Countess Zalti and her famous black pearl were once again in the newspapers—this time, however, because of her gruesome murder. The newspapers reported that her manservant, Victor Danègre, had been arrested. Upon searching his room, the chief of police, Dudouis, had found a coat stained with a few drops of blood hidden under his mattress. Later a missing button from that coat was found under the countess' bed. However, some points needed further explanation. Witnesses said Danègre went to a tobacco shop at seven o'clock in the morning. But the countess' housekeeper testified that the door was locked when she rose at eight o'clock. Danègre did not have a key, so how did he leave the apartment and lock the door after himself?
The police's investigation turned up no answers—only new mysteries. The countess' cousin declared that a month before her death, the countess had written to her and described the exact location of the black pearl. That letter, however, had disappeared the next day. The building's guard recalled a visitor for the doctor, but the doctor testified he had seen no one. There were too many suspects in the case and not enough evidence, so the police had to free Danègre.
During the six-month investigation, Danègre had been in prison. Upon release he was physically and mentally weak, a shadow of his former self. Because of the publicity, he couldn't get a job, so he changed his name to Anatole Dufour.
One evening, as he was eating dinner at a cafe, a man wearing a black raincoat entered and sat at his table. The man poured them both some wine.
"To your health, Victor Danègre," the man toasted.
"You are mistaken. My name is Dufour."
The man shook his head and said, "I am Grimaudan, ex-detective, and you are Victor Danègre, ex-servant of the deceased Countess Zalti."
"What do you want?" growled Danègre.
"I've been sent by the countess' cousin," replied Grimaudan, "to recover the black pearl."
"I don't have it," said Danègre.
"Oh yes, you do," Grimaudan retorted.
"The police couldn't prove it," insisted Danègre.
Grimaudan took a sip of wine.
"Three weeks before the murder, you took the countess' key and paid the locksmith to make a copy."
"That's a lie!" shouted Danègre.
Grimaudan took the key out of his pocket.
"You killed the countess with a knife you bought from a shop the same day you duplicated the key," continued Grimaudan.
"No!" cried Danègre.
Again Grimaudan reached into his pocket. He took out the knife.
"You have a key and a knife. Who can prove they belong to me?" said Danègre, regaining his composure.
"The locksmith and the clerk at the shop will identify you," replied Grimaudan coldly.
Danègre's mouth went dry. "It's been too long. They could never remember all their customers."
"Perhaps. But there is more evidence that will convict you of this terrible crime—your fingerprint."
Danègre started to argue, but Grimaudan continued.
"After you murdered the countess, you left through the closet. You were scared, unsteady, and leaned against the wall for support. Your thumb, wet with blood, made an impression on the wall. If I direct the police to that fingerprint, they will see it matches yours."
Danègre hung his head. "How much will you give me for the pearl?"
"Nothing," replied Grimaudan. "I will give you your life."
"I will take you to it," said Danègre.
They walked out of the restaurant and toward the countess' former apartment building, finally stopping in front of a bench.
"It's here."
"Where?" Grimaudan looked around but didn't see anything.
Danègre remained silent.
"You still want me to pay you for the pearl," Grimaudan remarked. "How much?"
"Just enough to get me to America," Danègre replied.
"Agreed," said Grimaudan. "Now where is it?"
"See the pavement stones? Count the stones to the right of the sewer grate. The pearl is between the twelfth and thirteenth stones."
Grimaudan counted the stones. When he got to the spot, he took out a knife and thrust it between the stones, digging deeply. His knife struck something, and he enlarged the hole with his finger. Finally Grimaudan pulled the pearl out of its filthy hiding place.
The following day the Écho printed this article:
Yesterday the famous black pearl fell into the hands of Arsène Lupin, who
acquired it from the murderer of the Countess Zalti. Soon the precious jewel
will be exhibited around the world for all to admire. Lupin is prepared to
receive offers for the jewel.
Lupin and I discussed the affair over dinner one evening.
"I had enough time in the countess' bedroom to form a plan to catch the murderer and retrieve the black pearl," explained Lupin. "I decided that Danègre had to be arrested but not convicted. So I made sure the police found Danègre's button, but not the knife and key. I also wiped off the fingerprint in the closet."
"And poor Danègre fell right into your trap," I said.
"And this fell right into my hands." Lupin's eyes twinkled as he held up the black pearl.