his arrest as narrated to me by Arsene Lupin
himself. The various incidents, which I shall record in writing at a
later day, have established between us certain ties.... shall I say of
friendship? Yes, I venture to believe that Arsene Lupin honors me with
his friendship, and that it is through friendship that he occasionally
calls on me, and brings, into the silence of my library, his youthful
exuberance of spirits, the contagion of his enthusiasm, and the mirth of
a man for whom destiny has naught but favors and smiles.

His portrait? How can I describe him? I have seen him twenty times and
each time he was a different person; even he himself said to me on one
occasion: "I no longer know who I am. I cannot recognize myself in the
mirror." Certainly, he was a great actor, and possessed a marvelous
faculty for disguising himself. Without the slightest effort, he could
adopt the voice, gestures and mannerisms of another person.

"Why," said he, "why should I retain a definite form and feature? Why
not avoid the danger of a personality that is ever the same? My actions
will serve to identify me."

Then he added, with a touch of pride:

"So much the better if no one can ever say with absolute certainty:
There is Arsene Lupin! The essential point is that the public may be
able to refer to my work and say, without fear of mistake: Arsene Lupin
did that!"

II. Arsene Lupin in Prison

There is no tourist worthy of the name who does not know the banks of
the Seine, and has not noticed, in passing, the little feudal castle of
the Malaquis, built upon a rock in the centre of the river. An arched
bridge connects it with the shore. All around it, the calm waters of the
great river play peacefully amongst the reeds, and the wagtails flutter
over the moist crests of the stones.

The history of the Malaquis castle is stormy like its name, harsh like
its outlines. It has passed through a long series of combats, sieges,
assaults, rapines and massacres. A recital of the crimes that have been
committed there would cause the stoutest heart to tremble. There are
many mysterious legends connected with the castle, and they tell us of
a famous subterranean tunnel that formerly led to the abbey of Jumieges
and to the manor of Agnes Sorel, mistress of Charles VII.

In that ancient habitation of heroes and brigands, the Baron Nathan
Cahorn now lived; or Baron Satan as he was formerly called on the
Bourse, where he had acquired a f