There is a moment early on in Arsene Lupin when the reader may warm to this story of yet another gentleman thief. We are told that Lupin has previously robbed the odious millionaire Gournay-Martin, but only to return funds taken by Gournay-Martin from the less wealthy, and return them to their rightful owners.
This would seem to pitch Lupin as more of a Robin Hood than a Raffles. Raffles was a wealthy burglar and ingenious, but he is essentially a downright rascal, and capable of sinking to low means to get his way.
Lupin is comparatively charming. He makes a virtue of stealing from the rich, and giving money to the poor. He despises the wealthy. For him, burglary is a game, and he improbably informs his intended victim of the date and time of day when he intends to take the items. From there, the fun is counting down to that moment knowing that Lupin will probably succeed, no matter how many police officers are guarding the items.
There are rules for Lupin though. He is partial to young ladies, and will seek to protect them from harm, or from being blamed for his crimes. He will not seriously rough up the police or his victims, and he will kill nobody. This is crime as sport, and something that belongs to a fantasy world away from the real ugly business of theft and burglary.
However there are limits to how far we should see Lupin as a defender of the poor against the rich. Many of the stolen items seem to be taken for the sheer pleasure of it. Do all these items go to help poor people?
In any case, once Lupin finally appears as himself in the story, we discover that his gang of accomplices are actually his faithful servants. Yes, it seems that Lupin is a member of the idle classes of the wealthy himself.
This casts a new glimpse on his targets in the book. Lupin is seeking to humiliate a capitalist businessman who values money for its own sake, artefacts for their financial value, and bettering himself at the expense of others.
Yet perhaps what Lupin really dislikes is work. He is a wealthy idler who has time and resources to plough into his criminal activities, whereas Gournay-Martin is a man who works for a living in the grubby field of business. He is admittedly an unpleasant man, and I doubt many readers will pity his sufferings.
A similar contempt comes into Lupin’s attitude towards the two detectives. Formery, the examining magistrate, is a man of little intelligence or imagination. He cannot even believe the evidence of his senses that Lupin is behind the crimes planned and undertaken.
Guerchard is the sharper detective, and he comes close to giving Lupin a run for his money at times. However the original author Maurice Leblanc and the man who converted this into a novel Edgar Jepson seem to share Lupin’s own opinion that Guerchard is Lupin’s intellectual inferior.
A successful criminal, it seems, has to be someone from the superior upper classes. There is no Sherlock Holmes figure here, though it is clear that Leblanc and Jepson would like there to be one. There is a sly reference to “Holmlock Shears, the great English detective” who was outwitted by Lupin, which is much as copyright laws would have allowed at the time.
For much of the book, Lupin is only heard about. We know he has robbed Gournay-Martin, and plans to do so again. The story is filtered through the Duke of Charmerace, an idle aristocrat who is engaged to Gournay-Martin’s detestable daughter.
The Duke has come back from a long absence abroad to marry Germaine, but seems to despise her and her father. He views their plight with amused contempt. He does seem to have a soft spot for Germaine’s beautiful secretary Sonia. Sonia has secrets of her own, and the Duke is protective towards the woman.
For much of the book, the Duke observes and encourages Guerchard’s efforts to find Lupin. It is evident that the Duke has the higher intellect however, and that he is more amused than concerned to find the stolen items.
When the plot twist finally comes, it will surprise nobody whatsoever. The more interesting wrinkle is the personality of Lupin when he finally emerges as himself. Far from being suave and amused, he is anxious and angsty, an exhausted man who is worn out with the effort of appearing suave and amused.
The story ends predictably enough, but that is hardly the point here. The pleasure is in the telling. Occasionally the minutiae of the investigation slows things down, but overall this is an enjoyable but undemanding book.