other disappearances have been reported, nor have we any further information here that would seem to help. I am afraid we must fall back on our other clues. Let us consider, therefore, where we should start.’
He paused for a few moments and then resumed.
‘We may begin, I think, by checking the part of Felix’s statement which you, Mr. Burnley, have not yet been able to inquire into, and to do so we must interview M. Le Gautier and try to ascertain if he wrote the letter. If he admits it we will be a step farther on, if not, we must find out how far the story of the lottery and the bet is true, and whether the conversation described by Felix actually took place. In this case we must ascertain precisely who were present and overheard that conversation, and would therefore have the knowledge necessary to write that letter. If this does not give us what we want, it may be necessary to follow up each of these persons and try for our man by elimination. A part of that inquiry would be a search for the typewriter used, which, as Mr. Burnley points out, is identifiable. Simultaneously, I think we should endeavour to trace the wearing apparel and the cask. What do you think of that, gentlemen, for a rough programme?’
‘I don’t think we could do better, sir,’ returned Burnley as the Chief looked at him, while Lefarge nodded his approval.
‘Very well, I would suggest that you and Lefarge go into the matter of the letter to-morrow. Arrange your programme as you think best for yourselves and keep me advised of how you get on. And now as to the clothes. Let me see exactly what you have.’
Burnley spread out the dead woman’s clothes and jewellery on a table. The Chief examined them for some minutes in silence.
‘Better separate them into three lots,’ he said at length, ‘the dress, the underclothes, and the trinkets. It will take three to work it properly.’ He consulted his card index and picked up the telephone.
‘Send Mme. Furnier and Mlles. Lecoq and Blaise here.’
In a few seconds three stylishly dressed women entered. The Chief introduced Burnley and briefly explained the case.
‘I want you three ladies,’ he said, ‘to take one each of these three lots of clothes and trinkets, and find the purchaser. Their quality will give you an idea of the shops to try. Get at it first thing to-morrow, and keep yourselves in constant touch with headquarters.’
When the women had withdrawn with the articles he turned to Burnley,—
‘In an inquiry of this sort I like a report in the evenings of progress during the day. Perhaps you and Lefarge wouldn’t mind calling about nine to-morrow evening, when we shall have a further discussion. And now it is nearly eight o’clock, so you cannot do anything to-night. You, Mr. Burnley, are doubtless tired from your journey and will be glad to get to your hotel. So good-night, gentlemen.’
The detectives bowed themselves out. After an exchange of further greetings and compliments, Lefarge said:—
‘Are you really very tired? Are you game for a short inquiry to-night?’
‘Why, certainly. What do you propose?’
‘This. Let us cross and get some dinner at Jules’ in the Boule Miche. It’s on the way to that address the Chief gave us. Then we could go on and see whether the body you found in the cask can be identified as that of Madame Marie Lachaise.’
They strolled leisurely over the Pont St. Michel and crossed the Quai into the Boulevard. When Burnley was in London he swore there was no place like that city, but in Paris he never felt so sure. Jove! he was glad to be back. And what luck to have met this good fellow Lefarge again! He felt that in the intervals of business he was going to enjoy himself.
They dined inexpensively but well, sitting over their cigars and liqueur coffee until the clocks struck nine. Then Lefarge made a move.
‘I don’t like to go to this place too late,’ he said. ‘Do you mind coming now?’
They took a taxi and, leaving the Luxembourg behind on the left, quickly ran the mile or so to the Boulevard Arago. M. Lachaise received them at once and they stated their melancholy business, showing the photograph of the body. The avocat took it to the light and examined it earnestly. Then he returned it with a gesture of relief.
‘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
WHO WROTE THE LETTER?
At ten o’clock next 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