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

make this painful statement. Still more we regret that the terrible dénouement should make it almost impossible to keep the matter hushed up. Our search for the murderer has, of course, begun. We shall not detain you any longer, except to ask you to repeat a few names and hours so that we may note them to make your statement complete.”

M. Boirac bowed.

“I thank you for your courtesy, M. le Chef.”

The Chief continued⁠—

“There is first of all your address. That we have on your card. Next⁠—I shall put it in question form⁠—What time was dinner?”

“Quarter to eight.”

“And what time did the message come for you from your works?”

“About a quarter to nine.”

“And you arrived there?”

“About nine-fifteen, I should think, I did not look. I walked to the Champs Élysées and took a taxi.”

“You said, I think, that you telephoned home then informing your wife that you could not return until very late?”

“I believe I did say that, but it is not strictly correct. I went to see the damage immediately on arrival, and was occupied there for some time. I should say I telephoned about ten o’clock.”

“But you unexpectedly got away about eleven?”

“That is so.”

“So that you must have met your friend at Châtelet about twenty past eleven?”

“About that, I should think.”

“Now your friend. I should like a note of his name and address.”

“His name I have already given you, Myron H. Burton. His address I unfortunately cannot, as I do not know it.”

“His home address, then?”

“I don’t know that, either. I met him in an hotel in New York. We played billiards together a few times and became friendly enough, but not to the extent of exchanging our family histories.”

“When was that, M. Boirac?”

“In the summer of 1908, no, 1909, three years ago.”

“And the hotel?”

“The Hudson View, the one that was burnt out last Christmas.”

“I remember, a terrible business, that. Your friend went by the 12:35 to Orléans. He was staying there I suppose?”

“No, he was changing there and going on, though where he was going I do not know. He told me this because I remarked on his choosing such a train⁠—it does not get in until about 4:30⁠—instead of sleeping in Paris and going by an early express that would do the journey in two hours.”

“Oh, well, it is not of much importance. The only other thing, I think, is the name and address of your wife’s maid.”

M. Boirac shook his head.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you that either. I only know her as Suzanne. But I dare say François or some of the other servants would know it.”

“I shall have, with your permission, to send a man to look over the house, and he can make inquiries. I am sure, M. Boirac, we are extremely obliged to you for your information. And now, what about the formal identification of the body? I have no doubt from what you say it is indeed that of your wife, but I fear the law will require a personal identification from you. Would it be convenient for you to run over to London and see it? Interment has not yet, I understand, taken place.”

M. Boirac moved uneasily. The suggestion was clearly most unwelcome to him.

“I needn’t say I would infinitely prefer not to go. However, if you assure me it is necessary, I can have no choice in the matter.”

“I am exceedingly sorry, but I fear it is quite necessary. A personal examination is required in evidence of identification. And if I might make a suggestion, I think that the visit should be made as soon as convenient to you.”

The visitor shrugged his shoulders.

“If I have to go, I may as well do it at once. I will cross tonight and be at Scotland Yard at, say, 11:00 tomorrow. It is Scotland Yard, I suppose?”

“It is, monsieur. Very good. I will telephone to the authorities there to expect you.”

The Chief rose and shook hands, and M. Boirac took his leave. When he had gone, M. Chauvet jumped up and went to the screen.

“Get half a dozen copies of that statement and the questions and answers typed at once, mademoiselle. You can get a couple of the other girls to help you.”

He turned to the two detectives.

“Well, gentlemen, we have heard an interesting story, and, whatever we may think of it, our first business will be to check it as far as we can. I think you had better get away immediately to the Avenue de l’Alma and see this François, if possible before Boirac gets back. Go through the house and get anything you can, especially a sample of the wife’s handwriting. Try also and trace the maid. In the meantime, I will set some other inquiries on foot. You might call in about nine tonight to report progress.”

XV The House in the Avenue de l’Alma

Burnley and Lefarge took the tram along the quais and, dismounting at the Pont Alma, proceeded up the Avenue on foot. The house was a corner one fronting on the Avenue, but with the entrance in the side street. It was set a few feet back from the footpath, and was a Renaissance building of gray rubble masonry, with moulded architraves and enrichments of red sandstone and the usual mansard roof.

The two men mounted the steps leading to the ornate porch. On their right were the windows of a large room which formed the angle between the two streets.

“You can see into that room rather too clearly for my taste,” said Burnley. “Why, if that’s the drawing-room, as it looks to be by the furniture, every caller can see just who’s visiting there as they come up to the door.”

“And conversely, I expect,” returned Lefarge, “the hostess can see her visitors coming and be prepared for them.”

The door was opened by an elderly butler of typical appearance, respectability and propriety oozing out of every pore of his sleek face. Lefarge showed his card.

“I regret M. Boirac is not at home, monsieur,” said the man politely, “but you will probably