“I’ll show you,” she said.
She drew aside the piece of tapestry, and in the middle of the panel over which the portrait of the Duke had hung he saw written in chalk the words:
ARSÈNE LUPIN
“What do you think of that autograph?” said Germaine.
“‘Arsène Lupin?’” said the Duke in a tone of some bewilderment.
“He left his signature. It seems that he always does so,” said Sonia in an explanatory tone.
“But who is he?” said the Duke.
“Arsène Lupin? Surely you know who Arsène Lupin is?” said Germaine impatiently.
“I haven’t the slightest notion,” said the Duke.
“Oh, come! No one is as South-Pole as all that!” cried Germaine. “You don’t know who Lupin is? The most whimsical, the most audacious, and the most genial thief in France. For the last ten years he has kept the police at bay. He has baffled Ganimard, Holmlock Shears, the great English detective, and even Guerchard, whom everybody says is the greatest detective we’ve had in France since Vidocq. In fact, he’s our national robber. Do you mean to say you don’t know him?”