The Cask, Freeman Wills Crofts [snow like ashes series .txt] 📗

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 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 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 someone 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.

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