‘Thank God,’ he said at length, ‘it’s not she.’
‘The body was clothed in a light pink evening dress, with several diamond rings on the fingers and a diamond comb in the hair.’
‘It is not she at all. My wife had no pink dress, nor did she wear a diamond comb. Besides, she left here in an out-of-door walking dress and all her evening things were in her wardrobe.’
‘It is conclusive,’ said M. Lefarge, and with thanks and compliments they took their leave.
‘I thought that would be no good,’ said Lefarge, ‘but we must do what the Chief says.’
‘Of course. Besides, you never know. Look here, old man,’ he added, ‘I am tired after all. I think, if you don’t mind, I’ll get away to the hotel.’
‘But, of course. Whatever you feel like. Let’s stroll to the end of the Boulevard. We can get the Metro across the street at the Avenue d’Orléans.’
They changed at Châtelet and, having arranged to meet next morning, the Inspector took the Maillot train for Concorde, while Lefarge went in the opposite direction to his home near the Place de la Bastille.
CHAPTER X
At ten o’clocknext morning Lefarge called for Burnley at the latter’s hotel in the rue Castiglione.
‘Now for M. Alphonse Le Gautier, the wine merchant,’ said the former as he hailed a taxi.
A short drive brought them to the rue de Vallorbes, off the Avenue Friedland, and there they discovered that the gentleman they were in search of was no myth, but a creature of real flesh and blood. He occupied a flat on the first floor of a big corner house, and the spacious approach and elegant furnishing indicated that he was a man of culture and comparative wealth. He had gone, they were told, to his office in the rue Henri Quatre, and thither the two friends followed him. He was a man of about five-and-thirty, with jet black hair and a pale, hawk-like face, and his manner was nervous and alert.
‘We have called, monsieur,’ said Lefarge, when the detectives had introduced themselves, ‘at the instance of M. le Chef de la Sûreté, to ask your assistance in a small inquiry we are making. We want to trace the movements of a gentleman who is perhaps not unknown to you, a M. Léon Felix, of London.’
‘Léon Felix? Why, of course I know him. And what has he been up to?’
‘Nothing contrary to the law, monsieur,’ returned Lefarge with a smile, ‘or, at least, we believe not. But unfortunately, in the course of another inquiry a point has arisen which makes it necessary for us to check some statements he has made about his recent actions. It is in this we want your help.’
‘I don’t think I can tell you much about him, but any questions you ask I’ll try to answer.’
‘Thank you, M. Le Gautier. Not to waste your time, then, I’ll begin without further preface. When did you last meet M. Felix?’
‘Well, it happens I can tell you that, for I had a special reason to note the date.’ He referred to a small pocket diary. ‘It was on Sunday the 14th of March, four weeks ago next Sunday.’
‘And what was the special reason to which you refer?’
‘This. On that day M. Felix and I made an arrangement to purchase coupons in the Government lotteries. He handed me 500 francs as his share, and I was to add another 500 francs and put the business through. Naturally I noted the transaction in my engagement book.’
‘Can you tell me under what circumstances this arrangement came to be made?’
‘Certainly. It was the result of an otherwise idle conversation on the lottery system, which took place that afternoon between a number of men, of whom I was one, at the Café Toisson d’Or, in the rue Royale. At the close of the discussion I said I would try my luck. I asked Felix to join me, and he did so.’
‘And did you purchase the bonds?’
‘I did. I wrote enclosing a cheque that same evening.’
‘And I hope your speculation turned out successfully?’
M. Le Gautier smiled.
‘Well, I can hardly tell you that, you know. The drawing will not be made till next Thursday.’
‘Next Thursday? Then I can only hope you will have luck. Did you write M. Felix that you had actually moved in the matter?’
‘No, I took it, that went without saying.’
‘So that you have not communicated with M. Felix in any way since last Sunday three weeks?’
‘That is so.’
‘I see. Now, another point, M. Le Gautier. Are you acquainted with a M. Dumarchez, a stockbroker, whose office is in the Boulevard Poissonière?’
‘I am. As a matter of fact he also was present at the discussion about the lotteries.’
‘And since that discussion you made a certain bet with him?’
‘A bet?’ M. Le Gautier looked up sharply. ‘I don’t understand you. I made no bet.’
‘Do you remember having a discussion with M. Dumarchez about criminals pitting their wits against the police?’
‘No, I recollect nothing of the kind.’
‘Are you prepared, monsieur, to say that no such conversation took place?’
‘Certainly, I do say it. And I should very much like to know the purport of all these questions.’
‘I am sorry, monsieur, for troubling you with them, and I can assure you they are not idle. The matter is a serious one, though I am not at liberty to explain it fully at present. But if you will bear with me I would like to ask one or two other things. Can you let me have the names of those present at the Toisson d’Or when the conversation about the lotteries took place?’
M. Le Gautier remained silent for some moments.
‘I hardly think I can,’ he said at last. ‘You see, there was quite a fair sized group. Besides Felix, Dumarchez, and myself, I can recollect M. Henri Briant and M. Henri Boisson. I think there were others, but I cannot recall who they were.’
‘Was a M. Daubigny one of them?’
‘You are right. I had forgotten him. He was there.’
‘And M. Jaques Rôget?’
‘I’m not sure.’ M. Le Gautier hesitated again. ‘I think so, but I’m not really sure.’
‘Can you let me have the addresses of these gentlemen?’
‘Some of them. M. Dumarchez lives five doors from me in the rue de Vallorbes. M. Briant lives near the end of the rue Washington, where it turns into the Champs Elysées. The other addresses I cannot tell you off-hand, but I can help you to find them in a directory.’
‘Many thanks. Now, please excuse me for going back a moment. You gave me to understand you did not write to M. Felix on the subject of the lottery?’
‘Yes, I said so, I think, quite clearly.’
‘But M. Felix states the very opposite. He says he received a letter from you, dated Thursday, 1st April, that is this day week.’
M. Le Gautier stared.
‘What’s that you say? He says he heard from me? There must be a mistake there, monsieur, for I did not write to him.’
‘But he showed me the letter.’
‘Impossible, monsieur. He could not have shown you what did not exist. Whatever letter he may have shown you was not from me. I should like to see it. Have you got it there?’
For answer Lefarge held out the sheet which Felix had given to Burnley during their midnight conversation at the villa of St. Malo. As M. Le Gautier read it the look of wonder on his expressive face deepened.
‘Extraordinary!’ he cried, ‘but here is a mystery! I never wrote, or sent, or had any knowledge of such a letter. It’s not only a forgery, but it’s a pure invention. There’s not a word of truth in that story of the bet and the cask from beginning to end. Tell me something more about it. Where did you get it?’
‘From M. Felix himself. He gave it to Mr. Burnley here, saying it was from you.’
‘But, good heavens!’ the young man sprang to his feet and began pacing up and down the room, ‘I can’t understand that. Felix is a decent fellow, and he wouldn’t say it was from me if he didn’t believe it. But how could he believe it? The thing is absurd.’ He paused and then continued. ‘You say, monsieur, that Felix said this note was from me. But what made him think so? There’s not a scrap of writing about it. It isn’t even signed. He must have known any one could write a letter and type my name below it. And then, how could he suppose that I should write such a tissue of falsehoods.’
‘But that is just the difficulty,’ returned Lefarge. ‘It’s not so false as you seem to imagine. The description of the conversation about the lottery and your arrangement with Felix to purchase bonds is, by your own admission, true.’
‘Yes, that part is, but the rest, all that about a bet and a cask, is wholly false.’
‘But there I fear you are mistaken also, monsieur. The part about the cask is apparently true. At least the cask arrived, addressed as described, and on the day mentioned.’
Again the young merchant gave an exclamation of astonishment.
‘The cask arrived?’ he cried. ‘Then there really was a cask?’ He paused again. ‘Well, I cannot understand it, but I can only repeat that I never wrote that letter, nor have I the slightest idea of what it is all about.’
‘It is, of course, obvious, monsieur, as you point out, that any one could have typed a letter ending with your name. But you will admit it is equally obvious that only a person who knew of your entering the lottery could have written it. You tell us you are not that person, and we fully accept your statement. Who else then, M. Le Gautier, had this information?’
‘As far as that goes, any one who was present at the discussion at the Toisson d’Or.’
‘Quite so. Hence you will see the importance of my questions as to who these were.’
M. Le Gautier paced slowly up and down the room, evidently thinking deeply.
‘I don’t know that I do,’ he said at last. ‘Suppose everything in that letter was true. Suppose, for argument’s sake, I had written it. What then? What business of the police is it? I can’t see that the law has been broken.’
Lefarge smiled.
‘That ought to be clear enough, anyway. Look at the facts. A cask arrives in London by the I. and C. boat from Rouen, labelled to a man named Felix at the certain address. Inquiries show that no one of that name lives at that address. Further, the cask is labelled “Statuary,” but examination shows that it does not contain statuary, but money, sovereigns. Then a man representing himself as Felix appears, states he lives at the false address, which is untrue, says he is expecting by that boat a cask of statuary, which is also untrue, and claims the one in question. The steamer people, being naturally suspicious, will not give it up, but by a trick Felix gets hold of it, and takes it to quite another address. When questioned by the police he produces this letter to account for his actions. I do not think it surprising that we are anxious to learn who wrote the letter, and if its contents are true.’
‘No, no, of course it is reasonable. I did not understand the sequence of events. All the same, it is the most extraordinary business I ever heard of.’
‘It is strange, certainly. Tell me, M. Le Gautier, have you ever had any disagreement with Mr. Felix? Can you imagine him having, or thinking he had, any cause of offence against you?’
‘Nothing of the kind.’
‘You never gave him cause, however innocently, to feel jealousy?’
‘Never. But why do you ask?’
‘I was wondering whether he might not have played a trick on you, and have written the letter himself.’
‘No, no. I’m sure it’s not that. Felix is a very straight, decent fellow. He would not do a thing like that.’
‘Well, can you think of any one who might be glad to give you annoyance? What about the men who were present when you discussed the lottery? Or any one else at all?’
‘I cannot think of a single person.’
‘Did you tell any one about this matter of the lottery?’
‘No. I never mentioned it.’
‘One other question, monsieur, and I have done. Did you at any time borrow £50 or the equivalent of French money from M. Felix.’
‘I never borrowed from him at all.’
‘Or do you know any one who borrowed such a sum from him?’
‘No one, monsieur.’
‘Then, monsieur, allow me to express my regret for the annoyance given, and my thanks for your courteous replies to my questions.’ He flashed a glance at Burnley. ‘If we might still further inflict ourselves on you, I should like, with your permission, to ask M. Dumarchez to join us here so that we may talk the matter over together.’
‘An excellent idea, monsieur. Do so by all means.’
One of the eventualities the colleagues had discussed before starting their morning’s work was the possible denial by M. Le Gautier of any bet with M. Dumarchez. They had decided that in such a case the latter must be interrogated before a communication could reach him from Le Gautier. It was with this in view that Lefarge left his friend with the wine-merchant, while going himself to interview his neighbour.
As the detective reached the door of the stockbroker’s office in the Boulevard Poissonière it opened and a middle-aged gentleman with a long, fair beard emerged.
‘Pardon, but are you M. Dumarchez?’ asked Lefarge.
‘My name, monsieur. Did you wish to see me?’
The detective introduced himself, and briefly stated his business.
‘Come in, monsieur,’ said the other. ‘I have an appointment in another part of Paris shortly, but I can give you ten minutes.’ He led the way into his private room and waved his visitor to a chair.
‘It is the matter of the bet, monsieur,’ began Lefarge. ‘The test has failed, and the police have therefore to satisfy themselves that the cask was really sent with the object stated.’
M. Dumarchez stared.
‘I do not understand,’ he replied. ‘To what bet are you referring?’
‘To the bet between you and M. Le Gautier. You see, M. Felix’s dealings with the cask are the result of the bet, and it must be obvious to you that confirmation of his statement is required.’
The stockbroker shook his head with decision as if to close the conversation.
‘You have made some mistake, monsieur. I made no bet with M. Le Gautier and, for the rest, I have no idea what you are speaking of.’
‘But, monsieur, M. Felix stated directly that you had bet M. Le Gautier he could not get the cask away. If that is not true, it may be serious for him.’
‘I know nothing of any cask. What Felix are you referring to?’
‘M. Léon Felix, of St. Malo, London.’
A look of interest passed over the stockbroker’s face.
‘Léon Felix? I certainly know him. A decent fellow he is too. And you mean to say he told you I was mixed up with some matter connected with a cask?’
‘Certainly. At least he told my colleague, Mr. Burnley, of the London police.’
‘My dear monsieur, your colleague must be dreaming. Felix must have been speaking of some one else.’
‘I assure you not, monsieur. There is no mistake. M. Felix states the bet arose out of a conversation on the State lotteries, which took place in the Café Toisson d’Or, three weeks ago last Sunday, at which you were present.’
‘He is right about the conversation, anyway. I recollect that quite well, but I know nothing whatever of any bet. Certainly, I made none.’
‘In that case, monsieur, I have to offer my apologies for having troubled you. I can see a mistake has been made. But before I leave, perhaps you would have the kindness to tell me who else were present on that occasion. Probably I should have gone to one of them.’
After some consideration M. Dumarchez mentioned three names, all of which Lefarge already had in his notebook. Then excusing himself on the ground of his appointment, the stockbroker hurried away, while Lefarge returned to report to Burnley and M. Le Gautier.
During the afternoon the colleagues called on each of the men whose names they had been given as having been present at the Café Toisson d’Or when the lottery discussion took place. M. Briant had gone to Italy, but they saw the others, and in each case the result was the same. All remembered the conversation, but none knew anything of the bet or the cask. Inquiries from the waiters at the Toisson d’Or likewise were without result.
‘We don’t seem to get much forrader,’ remarked Burnley, as the two friends sat over their coffee after dinner that evening. ‘I am inclined to believe that these men we have seen really don’t know anything about the cask.’
‘I agree with you,’ returned Lefarge. ‘At any rate it shouldn’t be difficult to test at least part of their statements. We can find out from the lottery people whether Le Gautier did purchase 1000 francs worth of bonds on Sunday three weeks. If he did, I think we must take it that the story of the conversation in the Toisson d’Or is true, and that he and Felix did agree to go in for it jointly.’
‘There can be no reasonable doubt of that.’
‘Further, we can find out if the drawing takes place next Thursday. If it does, it follows that all that part of the letter about the winning of the money and the test with the cask is false. If, on the other hand, it has already been made, the letter may conceivably be true, and Le Gautier is lying. But I don’t think that likely.’
‘Nor I. But I don’t quite agree with you about the letter. We already know the letter is false. It said £988 would be sent in the cask, whereas there was a body and £52 10s. But the question of the test is not so clear to me. The caskdidcome as described in the letter, bearing the false address and description, and if it was not so sent for the reason mentioned, what other reason can you suggest?’
‘None, I admit.’
‘Let us see, then, just what we do know about the writer of the letter. Firstly, he must have known of the conversation about the lottery, and of the arrangement made by Felix and Le Gautier to enter for it. That is to say, he must either have been present in the Toisson d’Or when it took place, or some one who was there must have repeated it to him. Secondly, he must have known all the circumstances of the sending out of the cask, at least as far as the false address and description were concerned. Thirdly, he must have had access to a rather worn typewriter, which we believe could be identified, and fourthly, he must have possessed, or been able to procure French note paper. So much is certain. We may also assume, though it has neither been proved, nor is it very important, that he could use the typewriter himself, as it is unlikely that such a letter would be done by a typist from dictation.’
‘That’s true, and so far as I can see, the only man that fills the bill so far is Felix himself.’
‘I don’t think it was Felix. I believe he was telling the truth all right. But we haven’t enough information yet to judge. Perhaps when we follow up the cask we shall be able to connect some of these men we saw to-day with it.’
‘Possibly enough,’ answered Lefarge, rising. ‘If we are to get to the Sûreté by nine, we had better go.’
‘Is it your Chief’s habit to hold meetings at nine o’clock? It seems a curious time to me.’
‘And he’s a curious man, too. First rate at his job, you know, and decent, and all that. But peculiar. He goes away in the afternoons, and comes back after dinner and works half the night. He says he gets more peace then?’
‘I dare say he does, but it’s a rum notion for all that.’
M. Chauvet listened with close attention to the report of the day’s proceedings and, after Lefarge ceased speaking, sat motionless for several seconds, buried in thought. Then, like a man who arrives at a decision he spoke:—
‘The matter, so far as we have gone, seems to resolve itself into these points. First, did a conversation about the lotteries take place in the Café Toisson d’Or about four weeks ago? I think we may assume that it did. Second, did Felix and Le Gautier agree to enter, and if so, did Le Gautier send a cheque that day? Here we can get confirmation by making inquiries at the lottery offices, and I will send a man there to-morrow. Third, has the drawing taken place? This can be ascertained in the same way. Beyond that, I do not think we can go at present, and I am of opinion our next move should be to try and trace the cask. That line of inquiry may lead us back to one of these gentlemen you have seen to-day, or may point to some one else whom we may find was present at the Toisson d’Or. What do you think, gentlemen?’
‘We had both arrived at the same conclusion, monsieur,’ answered Lefarge.
‘Well then, you will make inquiries about the cask to-morrow, will you? Good. I will look-out for you in the evening.’
Having arranged eight o’clock at the Gare du Nord for the rendezvous next day, the detectives bid each other good-night and went their ways.
CHAPTER XI
The handsof the large clock at the Gare du Nord were pointing to three minutes before eight next morning as Inspector Burnley walked up the steps of the entrance. Lefarge was there before him and the two men greeted each other warmly.
‘I have a police box cart here,’ said Lefarge. ‘Give me your papers and we’ll have the cask out in a brace of shakes.’
Burnley handed them over and they went to the luggage bureau. Lefarge’s card had a magical effect, and in a very few minutes the sacking-covered barrel had been found and loaded on to the cart. Lefarge instructed the driver.
‘I want that taken to a street off the rue de la Convention at Grenelle. You might start now and stop at the Grenelle end of the Pont Mirabeau. Wait there until I come for you. I suppose it will take you an hour or more?’
‘It’ll take more than an hour and a half, monsieur,’ replied the man. ‘It is a long way and this cart is very heavy.’
‘Very well, just do the best you can.’
The man touched his cap and moved off with his load.
‘Are we in any hurry?’ asked Burnley.
‘No, we have to kill time until he gets there. Why do you ask?’
‘Nothing, except that if we have time enough, let’s go down directly to the river and take a boat. I always enjoy the Seine boats.’
‘As a matter of fact so do I,’ replied Lefarge. ‘You get the air and the motion is pleasanter and more silent than a bus. They are not so slow either when you consider the stops.’
They took a bus which brought them southwards through the Louvre, and, alighting at the Pont des Arts, caught a steamer going to Suresnes. The morning was fresh and exquisitely clear. The sun, immediately behind them at first, crept slowly round to the left as they followed the curve of the river. Burnley sat admiring perhaps for the fiftieth time the graceful architecture of the bridges, justly celebrated as the finest of any city in the world. He gazed with fresh interest and pleasure also on the buildings they were carried past, from the huge pile of the Louvre on the right bank to the great terrace of the Quai d’Orsay on the left, and from the Trocadero and the palaces of the Champs Élysées back to the thin tapering shaft of the Eiffel Tower. How well he remembered a visit that he and Lefarge had paid to the restaurant on the lower stage of this latter when they lunched at the next table to Madame Marcelle, the young and attractive looking woman who had murdered her English husband by repeated doses of a slow and irritant poison. He had just turned to remind his companion of the circumstance when the latter’s voice broke in on his thoughts.
‘I went back to the Sûreté after we parted last night. I thought it better to make sure of the cart this morning, and I also looked up our records about this firm of monumental sculptors. It seems that it is not a very large concern, and all the power is vested in the hands of M. Paul Thévenet, the managing director. It is an old establishment and apparently eminently respectable, and has a perfectly clean record so far as we are concerned.’
‘Well, that’s so much to the good.’
They disembarked at the Pont Mirabeau and, crossing to the south side and finding a tolerably decent looking café, sat down at one of the little tables on the pavement behind a screen of shrubs in pots.
‘We can see the end of the bridge from here, so we may wait comfortably until the cart appears,’ said Lefarge, when he had ordered a couple of bocks.
They sat on in the pleasant sun, smoking and reading the morning papers. Nearly an hour passed before the cart came into view slowly crossing the bridge. Then they left their places at the café and, signing to the driver to follow, walked down the rue de la Convention, and turned into the rue Provence. Nearly opposite, a little way down the street, was the place of which they were in search.
Its frontage ran the whole length of the second block, and consisted partly of a rather ancient looking four-story factory or warehouse and partly of a high wall, evidently surrounding a yard. At the end of the building this wall was pierced by a gateway leading into the yard, and just inside was a door in the end wall of the building, labelled ‘Bureau.’
Having instructed the driver to wait outside the gate, they pushed open the small door and asked to see M. Thévenet on private business. After a delay of a few minutes a clerk ushered them into his room.
The managing director was an elderly man, small and rather wizened, with a white moustache, and a dry but courteous manner. He rose as the detectives entered, wished them good-morning, and asked what he could do for them.
‘I must apologise for not sending in my card, M. Thévenet,’ began Lefarge, presenting it, ‘but, as the matter in question is somewhat delicate, I preferred that your staff should not know my profession.’
M. Thévenet bowed.
‘This, sir,’ went on Lefarge, ‘is my colleague, Mr. Burnley of the London police, and he is anxious for some information, if you would be so kind as to let him have it.’
‘I will be pleased to answer any questions I can. I speak English if Mr. Burnley would prefer it.’
‘I thank you,’ said Burnley. ‘The matter is rather a serious one. It is briefly this. On Monday last—four days ago—a cask arrived in London from Paris. Some circumstances with which I need not trouble you aroused the suspicions of the police, with the result that the cask was seized and opened. In it were found, packed in sawdust, two things, firstly, £52 10s. in English gold, and secondly the body of a youngish woman, evidently of good position, and evidently murdered by being throttled by a pair of human hands.’
‘Horrible!’ ejaculated the little man.
‘The cask was of very peculiar construction, the woodwork being at least twice as heavy as that of an ordinary wine cask and secured by strong iron bands. And, sir, the point that has brought us to you is that your firm’s name was stencilled on it after the words “Return to,” and it was addressed on one of your firm’s labels.’
The little man sprang to his feet.
‘Our cask? Our label?’ he cried, in evident astonishment. ‘Do I understand you to say, sir, that the cask containing this body was sent out by us?’
‘No, sir,’ returned Burnley, ‘I did not say that. I simply say that it arrived bearing your name and label. I am in total ignorance of how or when the body was put in. That is what I am over from London to investigate.’
‘But the thing is utterly incredible,’ said M. Thévenet, pacing up and down the room. ‘No, no,’ he added, with a wave of his hand as Burnley would have spoken, ‘I don’t mean that I doubt your word. But I cannot but feel that there must be a terrible mistake.’
‘It is only right to add, sir,’ continued Burnley, ‘that I did not myself see the label. But it was seen by the men of the carrying company, and especially by one of their clerks who examined it carefully after suspicion had been aroused. The label was afterwards destroyed by Felix, to whom the cask was addressed.’
‘Felix, Felix, the name seems familiar. What was the full name and address?’
‘M. Léon Felix, 141 West Judd Street, Tottenham Court Road, London, W.C.’
‘Ah, of course,’ rejoined M. Thévenet. ‘There is, then, really such a man? I rather doubted it at the time, you know, for our advice card of the despatch of the cask was returned marked, “Not known,” and I then looked him up in the London directory and could not find him. Of course, as far as we were concerned, we had the money and it did not matter to us.’
Burnley and his colleague sat up sharply.
‘I beg your pardon, M. Thévenet,’ said Burnley. ‘What’s that you say? At the time? At what time, if you please?’
‘Why, when we sent out the cask. When else?’ returned the director, looking keenly at his questioner.
‘But, I don’t understand. Youdidsend out a cask then, addressed to Felix at Tottenham Court Road?’
‘Of course we did. We had the money, and why should we not do so?’
‘Look here, M. Thévenet,’ continued Burnley, ‘we are evidently talking at cross purposes. Let me first explain more fully about the label. According to our information, which we have no reason to doubt, the address space had been neatly cut out and another piece of paper pasted behind, bearing the address in question. It seemed to us therefore, that some person had received the cask from you and, having altered the label, packed the body in it and sent it on. Now we are to understand that the cask was sent out by you. Why then should the label have been altered?’
‘I’m sure I cannot tell.’
‘May I ask what was in the cask when it left here?’
‘Certainly. It was a small group of statuary by a good man and rather valuable.’
‘I’m afraid, M. Thévenet, I haven’t got the matter clear yet. It would oblige us both very much if you would be kind enough to tell us all you know about the sending out of that cask.’
‘With pleasure.’ He touched a bell and a clerk entered.
‘Bring me,’ he said, ‘all the papers about the sale of that group of Le Mareschal’s to M. Felix of London.’ He turned again to his visitors.
‘Perhaps I had better begin by explaining our business to you. It is in reality three businesses carried on simultaneously by one firm. First, we make plaster casts of well-known pieces. They are not valuable and sell for very little. Secondly, we make monuments, tombstones, decorative stone panels and the like for buildings, rough work, but fairly good. Lastly we trade in really fine sculpture, acting as agents between the artists and the public. We have usually a considerable number of such good pieces in our showroom. It was one of these latter, a 1400 franc group, that was ordered by M. Felix.’
‘Felix ordered it?’ burst in Burnley, ‘but there, pardon me. I must not interrupt.’
The clerk returned at this moment and laid some papers on his principal’s desk. The latter turned them over, selected one, and handed it to Burnley.
‘Here is his letter, you see, received by us on the morning of the 30th of March, and enclosing notes for 1500 francs. The envelope bore the London postmark.’
The letter was written by hand on one side of a single sheet of paper and was as follows:—
‘141 West Jubb Street,
‘Tottenham Court Road,
‘London, W.C.,
29th March, 1912.
‘Messrs Dupierre et Cie.,
‘Rue Provence,
‘Rue de la Convention,
‘Grenelle, Paris.
‘Gentlemen.—I am anxious to purchase the group of statuary in the left-hand corner back of your Boulevard des Capucines showroom, looking from the street. The group is of three female figures, two seated and one standing. There can be no doubt about the one I mean, as it is the only such in the left of the window.
‘Please forward immediately to the above address.
‘I do not know the exact price, but understand it is about 1500 francs. I therefore enclose notes for that sum, and if a balance remains on either side it can be adjusted by letter.
‘I may say that an unexpected call to England prevented me ordering this in person.
‘Yours, etc.
‘Léon Felix.’
Inspector Burnley examined the letter.
‘You will allow us to keep this in the meantime, I presume?’ he asked.
‘Certainly.’
‘You said the money was in notes. You mean, I take it, ordinary State paper money whose source could not be traced; not any kind of cheque or draft payable through a bank?’
‘Precisely.’
‘Well, sir, pardon my interruption.’
‘There is little more to add. The group was packed and despatched on the day we received the letter. Its price was, as a matter of fact, only 1400 francs, and the balance of 100 francs was therefore enclosed with it. This was considered as safe as any other way of sending it, as the cask was insured for its full value.’
‘The cask? You packed it then in a cask?’
‘Yes. We make a special kind of cask in two sizes, very heavy and strong, for sending out such pieces. It is our own idea, and we are rather proud of it. We find it simpler and safer than a crate.’
‘We have the cask in a cart outside. Perhaps, if we brought it in, you would be good enough to see if it could be identified, firstly if it is yours, and secondly, if so, if it is the particular one you sent to Felix.’
‘Well, you see, unfortunately it was sent from our showrooms in the Boulevard des Capucines. If you have time to take it there I will instruct the manager to assist you in every way in his power. Indeed, I will go with you myself. I shall not be able to rest until the matter is cleared up.’
The detectives thanked him and, while Lefarge was instructing the carter, M. Thévenet procured a taxi and they drove to the Boulevard des Capucines.
CHAPTER XII
The showroomsconsisted of a small but luxuriously fitted up shop, containing many objects of excellence and value. M. Thévenet introduced the manager, M. Thomas, a young and capable looking man, who invited them into his office. He did not speak English, and Lefarge carried on the conversation.
‘These gentlemen,’ said M. Thévenet, ‘are making some inquiries about the sale of Le Mareschal’s group to Mr. Felix of London last week. I want you to tell them all you can, Thomas.’
The young man bowed.
‘With pleasure, monsieur.’
In a few words Lefarge put him in possession of the main facts. ‘Perhaps,’ he continued, ‘if you would be kind enough to tell me all that you know, I could then ask questions on any point I did not understand.’
‘But certainly, monsieur. There is not much to tell.’ He looked up some memoranda. ‘On Tuesday week, the 30th of March, we had a phone from the head office saying that M. Le Mareschal’s last group, which we had on exhibition in our window, was sold. We were to send it at once to M. Léon Felix, at the London address you know. Also we were to enclose 100 francs, refund of an overpayment of the cost. This was done. The group and the money were duly packed and despatched. Everything was perfectly in order and in accordance with our usual custom. The only remarkable feature in the whole transaction was the absence of a receipt from Felix. I do not think I can recall another instance in which we were not advised of our goods safe arrival, and in this case it was doubly to be expected, owing to the enclosure of money. I might perhaps mention also that on that same Tuesday we had a telephone call from M. Felix, through from London, asking when and by what route we were sending the cask, to which I replied in person.’
The young man paused, and Lefarge asked how the group was packed.
‘In a number A cask, our usual practice.’
‘We have a cask coming along. It will be here presently. Could you identify it?’
‘Possibly I or the foreman might.’
‘Well, M. Thévenet, I do not think we can get any further till it arrives. There would just be time fordejeuner. We hope you and M. Thomas will give us the pleasure of your company.’
This was agreed to, and they lunched at one of the comfortable restaurants on the Boulevard. When they returned to the shop the cart was waiting.
‘We had better have him round to the yard,’ said M. Thomas. ‘If you will go through I will show him the way.’
The yard was a small open area surrounded by sheds. Into one of these the cart was backed and the cask unpacked. M. Thomas examined it.
‘That’s certainly one of our casks,’ he said. ‘They are our own design and, so far as I am aware, are used by no one else.’
‘But, M. Thomas,’ said Lefarge, ‘can you identify it in any special manner? We do not, of course, doubt what you have said, but if it could be established that this particular cask had passed through your yard it would be important. Otherwise, if you judge only by likeness to type, we cannot be sure that some one has not copied your design to try and start a false scent.’
‘I see what you mean, but I fear I cannot certify what you want. But I’ll call the foreman and packers. Possibly some of them can help you.’
He went into another of the sheds, returning immediately with four men.
‘Look at that cask, men,’ he said. ‘Have any of you ever seen it before?’
The men advanced and inspected the cask minutely, looking at it from all sides. Two of them retreated, shaking their heads, but the third, an elderly man with white hair, spoke up.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I packed this cask not a fortnight ago.’
‘How are you so certain of that?’ asked Lefarge.
‘By this, monsieur,’ said the man, pointing to the broken stave. ‘That stave was split. I remember quite well the shape of the crack. I noticed it, and wondered if I should report it to the foreman, and then I thought it was safe enough and didn’t. But I told my mate about it. See here, Jean,’ he called to the fourth man, ‘is that the crack I showed you some days ago, or is it only like it?’
The fourth man advanced and inspected it in his turn.
‘It’s the same one,’ he said confidently. ‘I know, because I thought that split was the shape of my hand, and so it is.’
He placed his hand on the adjoining stave, and there certainly was a rude resemblance in shape.
‘I suppose neither of you men remember what you packed in it, or whom it was for?’
‘As far as I remember,’ said the third man, ‘it was a statue of three or four women, but I don’t remember who it was for.’
‘It wasn’t for a man called Felix, of London?’
‘I remember the name, but I can’t say if it was for him.’
‘Thank you. Would you tell me how it was packed? What steadied the group?’
‘Sawdust, monsieur, simply sawdust, carefully rammed.’
‘Can you tell me if the railway cart took it from here, or how did it go?’
‘No, monsieur, it was taken by one of our own motor lorries from the Grenelle works.’
‘Did you know the driver?’
‘Yes, monsieur, it was Jules Fouchard.’
‘I suppose, monsieur,’ Lefarge turned to the managing director, ‘we could interview this man Fouchard?’
‘Why, certainly. M. Thomas will find out where he is.’
‘Pardon, messieurs,’ interposed the elderly packer, ‘but he’s here now. Or at least I saw him not ten minutes ago.’
‘Good. Then try and find him, and tell him not to go away till we have seen him.’
In a few moments the driver was found and, having asked him to wait outside, Lefarge continued his questions to the packer.
‘At what o’clock did the cask leave here?’
‘About four. I had it packed and ready by two, but the lorry did not come for a couple of hours after that.’
‘Did you see it loaded up?’
‘I helped to load it up.’
‘Now tell me,’ continued Lefarge, ‘where was the cask between the time you put the group in and the arrival of the motor?’
‘Here, monsieur, in this shed where I packed it.’
‘And did you leave it during that time?’
‘No, monsieur, I was here all the time.’
‘So that—please be very careful about this—no one could have tampered with it in any way up till the time it left the yard?’
‘Absolutely impossible, monsieur. It is quite out of the question.’
‘Thank you, we are exceedingly obliged to you,’ said Lefarge, slipping a couple of francs into the man’s hand as he withdrew. ‘Now, could I see the lorry driver?’
Jules Fouchard proved to be a small, energetic looking man, with sharp features and intelligent eyes. He was sure of his facts, and gave his answers clearly and without hesitation.
‘M. Fouchard,’ began Lefarge, ‘this gentleman and I are trying to trace the movements of one of your casks, which I am informed left here by your lorry about four o’clock on Tuesday, the thirtieth of March last. Can you recall the occasion?’
‘Permit me to get my delivery book, monsieur.’
He disappeared for a moment, returning with a small, cloth-covered book. Rapidly turning over the pages, he found what he was looking for.
‘For M. Léon Felix, 141 West Jubb Street, Tottenham Court Road, London? Yes, monsieur. It was the only cask which left here that day. I took it to the Gare St. Lazare and handed it to the railway officials. Here is their signature for it.’
He passed the book over and Lefarge read the name.
‘Thank you. Who is this Jean Duval? I shall probably want to see him and would like to know where to find him.’
‘He is a clerk in the departure passenger cloak-room.’
‘You left here with the cask, I understand, about four o’clock?’
‘About that, monsieur.’
‘And what time did you arrive at the Gare St. Lazare?’
‘Just a few minutes later. I went direct.’
‘You didn’t stop on the way?’
‘No, monsieur.’
‘Well now, monsieur, please don’t answer till you have considered carefully. Was there any way in which the cask could have been tampered with between the time it was loaded up here and your handing it over to Jean Duval at the Gare St. Lazare?’
‘None, monsieur. No one could have got on the lorry without my knowledge, much less have done anything to the cask.’
‘And I take it from that, it would have been equally impossible to remove it entirely and substitute another?’
‘It would have been absolutely out of the question, monsieur.’
After thanking and dismissing the driver, they returned to the manager’s room.
‘The position, then, seems to be this,’ said Lefarge, as they sat down. ‘The cask left your yard containing a group of statuary, and it arrived in London containing the dead body of a woman. The change must therefore have been effected along the route, and the evidence of the steamer people seems to narrow it down to between here and Rouen.’
‘Why Rouen?’ asked both gentlemen in a breath.
‘Well, I should have said, perhaps, between here and the time of loading on to the steamer at Rouen wharf.’
‘But I am afraid you are making a mistake there,’ said M. Thomas; ‘the cask went by Havre. All our stuff does.’
‘Pardon me, M. Thomas, for seeming to contradict you,’ said Burnley, in his somewhat halting French, ‘but I am as certain of it as of my presence here now, however the cask may have been sent, it certainly arrived in the London Docks by the Insular and Continental Steam Navigation Company’s boat from Rouen.’
‘But that is most mysterious,’ rejoined M. Thomas. He struck a bell and a clerk appeared.
‘Bring me the railway papers about the sending of that cask to Felix, London, on the thirtieth ultimo.’
‘Here you are,’ he said to Burnley, when the clerk returned. ‘Look at that. That is the receipt from the St. Lazare people for the freight on the cask between this and the address in London, per passenger train via Havre and Southampton.’
‘Well,’ said Burnley, ‘this gets me altogether. Tell me,’ he added after a pause, ‘when Felix telephoned you from London asking when and by what route you were sending the cask, what did you reply?’
‘I told him it was crossing on Tuesday night, the 30th of March, by Havre and Southampton.’
‘We’d better go to St. Lazare,’ said Lefarge. ‘Perhaps M. Thomas will kindly lend us that receipt?’
‘Certainly, but you must please sign for it, as I shall want it for my audit.’
They parted with expressions of thanks on the part of the detectives, who promised to keep the others advised of the progress of the inquiry.
A taxi brought them to St. Lazare, where, at the office of the superintendent of the line, Lefarge’s card had the usual magical effect.
‘Please be seated, gentlemen,’ said the superintendent, ‘and let me know what I can do for you.’
Lefarge showed him the receipt.
‘The matter is somewhat puzzling,’ he said. ‘That cask, as you see, was invoiced out via Havre and Southampton on the 30th ultimo, and yet it turned up in London on Monday, the 5th instant, by the Insular and Continental Steam Navigation Company’s boatBullfinchfrom Rouen. The contents of the cask when it left Messrs. Dupierre’s showroom was a group of statuary, but when it arrived at St. Katharine’s Docks—well, I may tell you, monsieur, in confidence—it contained the body of a woman—murdered.’
The superintendent gave an exclamation of surprise.
‘You see, therefore, monsieur, the necessity of our tracing the cask as privately as possible.’
‘I certainly do. If you will wait a few minutes, gentlemen, I can get you part at least of the information you want.’
The few minutes had expanded into nearly an hour before the superintendent returned.
‘Sorry to have kept you so long,’ he apologised. ‘I find that your cask was delivered at our outward passenger cloak-room at about 4.15 p.m. on the 30th ultimo. It remained there until about 7.00 p.m., and during all this time it was under the personal supervision of one of the clerks named Duval, a most conscientious and reliable man. He states it stood in full view of his desk, and it would have been quite impossible for any one to have tampered with it. He particularly remembers it from its peculiar shape and its weight, as well as because it was an unusual object to send by passenger train. At about 7.00 p.m. it was taken charge of by two porters and placed in the van of the 7.47 p.m. English boat train. The guard of the train was present when they put it into the van, and he should have been there till the train left. The guard is unfortunately off duty at present, but I have sent for him and will get his statement. Once the train left, the cask would simply be bound to go to Havre. If it had not done so with that insurance on it, we should have heard about it. However, I will communicate with our agent at Havre, and I should be able to get definite information in the morning.’
‘But, my dear sir,’ cried Burnley helplessly, ‘I know of my own knowledge that it came by long sea from Rouen. I don’t for one moment doubt your word, but there must be a mistake somewhere.’
‘Ah,’ returned the superintendent, smiling, ‘now I come to something that will interest you. The cask we have just spoken of was sent out on the evening of the 30th ult. But I find another cask was despatched three days later, on the 1st instant. It also was addressed to M. Felix at the same London address and sent in by Messrs. Dupierre. It was labelled via Rouen and the I. and C. Company’s boat. It went by goods train that night, and I will get our Rouen agent to try and trace it, though, as he would have had no reason to remark it, I doubt if he will be able to do so.’
Burnley swore. ‘I beg your pardon, sir, but this gets deeper and deeper. Two casks!’ He groaned.
‘At least,’ said the superintendent, ‘it has cleared up your difficulty about how a cask that left by one route arrived by another.’
‘It has done that, monsieur, and we are really extremely obliged for all your kindness and trouble.’
‘If there is anything else I can do I shall be very pleased.’
‘Thank you again. The only other point is to trace the cart that brought the second cask.’
‘Ah,’ the superintendent shook his head; ‘I can’t do that for you, you know.’
‘Of course not. But perhaps you could get hold of, or put us in a position to get hold of your men who received the cask? We might get some information from them.’
‘I shall do what I can. Now, gentlemen, if you will call any time in the morning, I shall let you have any further information I receive.’
The detectives, having thanked him again, bowed themselves out and, strolling up and down the vast concourse, discussed their plans.
‘I should like to wire to London now, and also to write by to-night’s post,’ said Burnley. ‘They’ll want to get on to tracing that second cask from Waterloo as soon as possible.’
‘Well, the ordinary letter-boxes are clear at half-past six, but if you are late you can post in the van of the English mail at the Gare du Nord up till 9.10 p.m., so you have plenty of time for that later. What about sending your wire from here now, and then going to the Hotel Continental to look up your friend Felix?’
Burnley agreed, and when the telegram had been sent they took another taxi and drove to the Continental. Lefarge’s card produced immediately a polite and agreeable manager, anxious to assist.
‘We are trying to trace a man whom we believe stayed here recently,’ explained Lefarge. ‘His name was Léon Felix.’
‘A rather short and slight man with a black beard and a pleasing manner?’ replied the manager. ‘Oh, yes, I know M. Felix very well, and very pleasant I have always found him. He was here recently. I will inquire the exact dates.’
He disappeared for a few seconds.
‘He was here from Saturday, the 13th of March, till Monday, the 15th. Then he returned on Friday, the 26th, and left again on the morning of Sunday, the 28th, to catch the 8.20 train for England at the Gare du Nord.’
The two detectives exchanged glances of surprise.
‘Could you let me compare his signature in your register with one I have here?’ asked Burnley. ‘I am anxious to make sure it is the same man.’
‘Certainly,’ replied the manager, leading the way.
The signature was the same, and, after thanking the manager, they took their departure.
‘That’s an unexpected find,’ Burnley remarked. ‘Felix said nothing to me about being here ten days ago.’
‘It’s a bit suggestive, you know,’ returned his companion. ‘We’ll have to find out what he was doing during the visit.’
Burnley nodded.
‘Now for my report, anyway,’ he said.
‘I think I’ll go to the Sûreté and do the same,’ answered Lefarge.
They parted, having arranged to meet later in the evening. Burnley wrote a detailed account of his day to his Chief, asking him to have inquiries made at Waterloo about the second cask. Having posted it, he gave himself up to a study of Felix’s letter ordering the group of statuary.
It was written on a sheet of the same kind of paper as those of the two typewritten letters received by Felix. Burnley carefully compared the watermarks and satisfied himself on the point. Then, drawing from his pocket the address he had got Felix to write in the house on the Great North Road, he compared them.
The handwriting was the same in each, at least that was his first impression, but on a closer examination he felt somewhat less certain. He was not a handwriting expert, but he had come across a good many of these men, and was aware of some of their methods. He applied those he knew and at last came to the conclusion that Felix had written the order, though a certain doubt remained. He wrote another note to his Chief and enclosed the two letters, asking him to have them compared.
Then he went out to spend the evening with Lefarge.
CHAPTER XIII
When some timelater the two friends met, Lefarge said:—
‘I saw the Chief, and he’s not very satisfied with the way things are going. None of those women have done anything with the clothes. He’s got a notion we ought to advertise and he wants us to go there at nine to-night and talk it over.’
Accordingly, at the hour named, they presented themselves at the office in the Sûreté.
‘Sit down, gentlemen,’ began the Chief. ‘I wanted to consult with you about this case. In our efforts to identify the dead woman, which we agreed was our first essential, we have unfortunately had no success. Our three women have done exceedingly well as far as covering ground goes, but they have had no luck. You, gentlemen, have found out some important facts, but they have not led in this particular direction. Now, I am inclined to think we ought to advertise and I’d like to hear your views.’
‘What particular advertisements do you suggest, sir?’ asked Burnley.
‘For everything. Advertise, in each case with 100 francs reward, for information about the dress, the underclothes if singular in any way, the rings, the comb, and the body itself.’
There was silence for a few moments, and then Burnley replied hesitatingly:—
‘We have a bit of prejudice at Scotland Yard about advertising except in special cases. I think the idea is that it puts people on their guard who might otherwise give themselves away. But in this case it would probably be the quickest way to a result.’
‘To me it would seem,’ said Lefarge, ‘that even if there was a band of persons anxious to hush this murder up, there would also be enough outside that band to answer every one of the advertisements.’
‘That is rather my view,’ agreed the Chief. ‘Take the servants, for example. A woman wearing such clothes is certain to have lived in a house with several servants. Some one of them is bound to read the advertisement and recognise the description. If he or she intends to try for the reward we get the information, if not, he will certainly show the paper to the others, one of whom is almost certain to come. The same thing applies to shop assistants, none of whom could conceivably wish to keep the thing a secret. Yes, I think we’ll try it. Will you draft out some forms, something like this, I should imagine. “One hundred francs reward will be paid for information leading to the identification of the body of a lady, believed to have died about the 30th March”—say “died,” of course, not “was murdered”—then the description, and “Apply at any Police Station.” The others would be for information leading to the identification of the purchaser of the various clothes.’
‘I shall have to see the three ladies for a proper description of the clothes,’ said Lefarge.
‘Of course. I’ll send for them.’
M. Chauvet telephoned to the department in question, and, after a delay of a few minutes, the three female detectives came in. With their help the advertisements were drawn up, and when the Chief had read and approved they were telephoned to the principal papers for insertion next day. Special trade journals relating to the millinery and jewellery trades were also supplied with copies for their next issues.
‘By the way,’ observed M. Chauvet, when the women had left, ‘I have had a report about the lottery business. M. Le Gautier is correct on both points. He paid in the cheque on the date stated, and the drawing does not take place till next Thursday. The probabilities seem therefore to point to his being an honest man and having had nothing to do with the letter. And now, with regard to to-morrow. What do you propose?’
‘First, monsieur, we thought of going to the Gare St. Lazare to see if the superintendent has any further information for us. I thought we should then try and trace back the cask that went via Rouen.’
‘Very good. I think I shall try another scent also, though not a very promising one. I shall put on a couple of men to go round the fashionable photographers with that photo of yours, and try if they can find a portrait of the woman. I had rather you could have done it’—he looked at Burnley—‘because you have seen the body, but they may get something. That’s all, then, is it not? Good-night.’
‘Hard lines being done out of our evening,’ said Lefarge, when they had left the great man’s room. ‘I was going to propose the Folies Bergères. It’s not too late yet, though. What do you say?’
‘I’m on,’ answered Burnley, ‘but I don’t want to stay more than an hour or so. I can always work better on plenty of sleep.’
‘Right,’ returned Lefarge, and, calling a taxi, the two friends were driven to the famous music-hall.
Lefarge called for Burnley the next morning at the latter’s hotel, and they made their way to the superintendent’s office at the Gare St. Lazare.
‘Well, gentlemen,’ said their friend of the previous afternoon, motioning them to be seated, ‘I think I’ve got the information you want.’ He took up some papers. ‘I have here the receipt of the Southampton boat people for what we may call number one cask, which was handed them on the arrival of the 7.47 from this station on the night of the 30th ult. Here,’ he took up a similar paper, ‘I have the receipt of the I. and C. Steam Navigation Co. at Rouen for cask number two, which left here by goods train on the 1st inst., and was got on board on the 3rd. Finally, our agent at the Goods Station at the rue Cardinet informs me he has found the porters who assisted to unload this number two cask when it arrived. You can see them by going down there now.’
‘I can hardly find words to thank you, sir,’ said Lefarge, ‘your help has been of the utmost value.’
‘Delighted, I am sure.’
They parted with mutual compliments, and the detectives took a Ceinture train to Batignoles, and walked down the rue Cardinet to the vast goods station.
They introduced themselves to the agent, who was expecting them, and brought them through long passages and across wide yards alive with traffic to a dock in the side of one of the huge goods sheds for outward bound traffic. Calling up two blue-bloused porters and instructing them to answer the detectives’ questions, he excused himself and took his leave.
‘Now, men,’ said Lefarge, ‘we’ll be much obliged for some information and there’ll be a few francs going if you can give it.’
The men expressed anxiety to supply whatever was needed.
‘Do you remember on Thursday week, the 1st instant, unloading a cask labelled for Felix, London, via Rouen and long sea?’
‘But yes, monsieur, we remember it,’ said the men in chorus.
‘You must unload hundreds of casks. How did you come to notice this one so specially?’
‘Ah, monsieur,’ replied one of the men, ‘had monsieur had to lift it himself he also would have noticed it. The weight was remarkable, extraordinary. The shape also was peculiar. In the middle there was no bulge.’
‘At what time did it arrive here?’
‘Just after six in the evening, monsieur, between five and ten minutes past.’
‘It is a good while since then. How do you come to remember the time so exactly?’
‘Because, monsieur,’ the man smiled, ‘we were going off duty at half-past six, and we were watching the time.’
‘Can you tell me who brought it to the yard?’
The men shrugged their shoulders.
‘Alas! monsieur, we do not know,’ the spokesman answered. ‘The carter we would recognise if we saw him again, but neither of us know where he lives nor the name of his employers.’
‘Can you describe him?’
‘But certainly, monsieur. He was a small man, thin and sickly looking, with white hair and a clean-shaven face.
‘Well, keep a good look-out, and if you see him again find out who he is and let me know. Here is my address. If you do that there will be fifty francs for you.’
Lefarge handed over a couple of five-franc pieces and the detectives left, followed by the promises and thanks of the men.
‘I suppose an advertisement for the carter is the next scheme,’ said Burnley, as they walked back in the Clichy direction.
‘We had better report to headquarters, I think,’ replied Lefarge, ‘and see what the Chief advises. If he approves, we might get our advertisement into to-night’s papers.’
Burnley agreed, and when they had had some lunch they rang up the Sûreté from the nearest call office.
‘That Lefarge?’ was the answer. ‘The Chief wants you to return immediately. He’s got some news.’
They took the Metro from Clichy to Châtelet and reached the Sûreté as the clocks were striking two. M. Chauvet was in.
‘Ah,’ he said, as they entered, ‘we’ve had a reply to the dress advertisement. Madame Clothilde’s people near the Palais Royal rang up about eleven saying they believed they had supplied the dress. We got hold of Mlle. Lecoq, who was working it, and sent her over, and she returned here about an hour ago. The dress was sold in February to Madame Annette Boirac, at the corner of Avenue de l’Alma and rue St. Jean, not far from the American Church. You’d better go round there now and make some inquiries.’
‘Yes, monsieur,’ said Lefarge, ‘but before we go there is this question of the cask,’ and he told what they had learned, and suggested the advertisement about the carter.
M. Chauvet had just begun his reply when a knock came to the door and a boy entered with a card.
‘The gentleman’s waiting to see you on urgent business monsieur,’ he said.
‘Hallo!’ said the Chief, with a gesture of surprise. ‘Listen to this.’ He read out the words, ‘“M. Raoul Boirac, rue St. Jean, 1, Avenue de l’Alma.” This will be Mme. Annette B.’s husband, I presume. These advertisements are doing well. You had better stop, both of you,’ and then to the boy, ‘Wait a moment.’
He picked up the telephone, pressing one of the buttons on the stand.
‘Send Mlle. Joubert here immediately.’
In a few moments a girl stenographer entered. M. Chauvet pointed to a corner of the room where Burnley had noticed a screen, set back as if to be out of the way.
‘I want every word of this conversation, mademoiselle,’ said the Chief. ‘Please be careful to miss none of it, and also to keep quiet.’
The girl bowed and, having seen her settled behind the screen, the Chief turned to the messenger.
‘I’ll see him now.’
In a few seconds M. Boirac entered the room. He was a strongly built man of rather under middle age, with thick black hair and a large moustache. On his face was an expression of strain, as if he was passing through a period of acute bodily or mental pain. He was dressed entirely in black and his manner was quiet and repressed.