‘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 stock-broker’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 someone 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 cask did come 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 someone 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 notepaper. 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 today 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 tomorrow. 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 today, 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 tomorrow, 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
MM. DUPIERRE ET CIE
THE hands of 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-storey 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 Jubb 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. You did send 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.’
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