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

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 cloakroom.”

“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 boat Bullfinch from 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 cloakroom 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 anyone 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