[Illustration: “Send Coralie up by herself and her life shall be saved,” read the scroll (Page 205)] THE GOLDEN TRIANGLE _The Return of Arsène Lupin_ BY MAURICE LE BLANC AUTHOR OF "THE WOMAN OF MYSTERY," "CONFESSIONS OF ARSÈNE LUPIN," ETC. NEW YORK THE MACAULAY COMPANY COPYRIGHT 1917 BY THE MACAULAY COMPANY CONTENTS CHAPTER I. CORALIE II. RIGHT HAND AND LEFT LEG III. THE RUSTY KEY IV. BEFORE THE FLAMES V. HUSBAND AND WIFE VI. NINETEEN MINUTES PAST SEVEN VII. TWENTY-THREE MINUTES PAST TWELVE VIII. ESSARÈS BEY'S WORK IX. PATRICE AND CORALIE X. THE RED CORD XI. ON THE BRINK XII. IN THE ABYSS XIII. THE NAILS IN THE COFFIN XIV. A STRANGE CHARACTER XV. THE BELLE HÉLÈNE XVI. THE FOURTH ACT XVII. SIMÉON GIVES BATTLE XVIII. SIMÉON'S LAST VICTIM XIX. FIAT LUX! THE GOLDEN TRIANGLE CHAPTER I CORALIE It was close upon half-past six and the evening shadows were growing denser when two soldiers reached the little space, planted with trees, opposite the Musée Galliéra, where the Rue de Chaillot and the Rue Pierre-Charron meet. One wore an infantryman's sky-blue great-coat; the other, a Senegalese, those clothes of undyed wool, with baggy breeches and a belted jacket, in which the Zouaves and the native African troops have been dressed since the war. One of them had lost his right leg, the other his left arm. They walked round the open space, in the center of which stands a fine group of Silenus figures, and stopped. The infantryman threw away his cigarette. The Senegalese picked it up, took a few quick puffs at it, put it out by squeezing it between his fore-finger and thumb and stuffed it into his pocket. All this without a word. Almost at the same time two more soldiers came out of the Rue Galliéra. It would have been impossible to say to what branch they belonged, for their military attire was composed of the most incongruous civilian garments. However, one of them sported a Zouave's _chechia_, the other an artilleryman's _képi_. The first walked on crutches, the other on two sticks. These two kept near the newspaper-kiosk which stands at the edge of the pavement. Three others came singly by the Rue Pierre-Charron, the Rue Brignoles and the Rue de Chaillot: a one-armed rifleman, a limping sapper and a marine with a hip that looked as if it was twisted. Each of them made straight for a tree and leant against it. Not a word was uttered among them. None of the seven crippled soldiers seemed to know his companions or to trouble about or even perceive their presence. They stood behind their trees or behind the kiosk or behind the group of Silenus figures without stirring. And the few wayfarers who, on that evening of the 3rd of April, 1915, crossed this unfrequented square, which received hardly any light from the shrouded street-lamps, did not slacken pace to observe the men's motionless outlines.