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

find him at the works in the rue Championnet.”

“Thanks,” returned Lefarge, “we have just had an interview with Mr. Boirac, and it is really you we wish to see.”

The butler ushered them into a small sitting-room at the back of the hall.

“Yes, messieurs?” he said.

“Did you see an advertisement in this morning’s papers for the identification of a lady’s body?”

“I saw it, monsieur.”

“I am sorry to say it was that of your mistress.”

François shook his head sadly.

“I feared as much, monsieur,” he said in a low tone.

“M. Boirac saw the advertisement also. He came just now to the Sûreté and identified the remains beyond any doubt. It is a painful case, for I regret to tell you she had been murdered in a rather brutal way, and now we are here with M. Boirac’s approval to make some inquiries.”

The old butler’s face paled.

“Murdered!” he repeated in a horrified whisper. “It couldn’t be. No one that knew her could do that. Everyone, messieurs, loved Madame. She was just an angel of goodness.”

The man spoke with real feeling in his voice and seemed overcome with emotion.

“Well, messieurs,” he continued, after a pause, “any help I can give you to get your hands on the murderer I’ll give with real delight, and I only hope you’ll succeed soon.”

“I hope so too, François. We’ll do our best anyway. Now, please, will you answer some questions. You remember M. Boirac being called to the works on Saturday the 27th of March, the evening of the dinner party, at about a quarter to nine. That was about the time, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, monsieur.”

“He went out at once?”

“He did, monsieur.”

“Then he telephoned at about half-past ten that he could not return until later. Was that about the time?”

“Rather earlier than that, I should think, monsieur. I don’t remember exactly, but I should think it was very little, if at all, past ten.”

“About ten, you think? Can you tell me what words he used in that message?”

“He said the accident was serious, and that he would be very late, and possibly might not get back before the morning.”

“You told your mistress, I suppose? Did the guests hear you?”

“No, monsieur, but Madame immediately repeated the message aloud.”

“What happened then?”

“Shortly after that, about 11:00 or 11:15, the guests began to leave.”

“All of them?”

The butler hesitated.

“There was one, a M. Felix, who waited after the others. He was differently situated to them, being a friend of the family. The others were merely acquaintances.”

“And how long did he wait after the others?”

François looked confused and did not immediately reply.

“Well, I don’t know, monsieur,” he said slowly. “You see, it was this way. I happened to have a rather bad headache that evening, and Madame asked me if I was not well⁠—it was just like her to notice such a thing⁠—and she told me to go to bed and not to sit up for Monsieur. She said M. Felix was waiting to get some books and would let himself out.”

“So you went to bed?”

“Yes, monsieur. I thanked her, and went after a little time.”

“About how long?”

“Perhaps half an hour.”

“And had M. Felix gone then?”

“No, monsieur, not at that time.”

“And what happened then?”

“I fell asleep, but woke up suddenly again after about an hour. I felt better and I thought I would see if Monsieur was in and if everything was properly locked up. I got up and went towards the hall, but just as I came to the staircase I heard the front door close. I thought, ‘That’s Monsieur coming in,’ but there was no sound of anyone moving in the hall and I went down to see.”

“Yes?”

“There was no one there, so I looked into the different rooms. They were all empty, though lighted up. I thought to myself, ‘This is strange,’ and I went to find Suzanne, Madame’s maid, who was sitting up for her. I asked her had Madame gone to bed, but she said not. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘she’s not downstairs. Better go up and see if she’s in her room.’ She went and came down in a moment looking frightened, and said the room was empty, but that Madame’s hat and fur coat and a pair of walking shoes were gone. Her evening shoes that she had been wearing were lying on the floor, where she had changed them. I went up myself and we searched around, and then I heard the latch of the front door again and went down. Monsieur was just coming in and, as I took his coat and hat, I told him about hearing the door close. He asked where Madame was, and I answered I did not know. He looked himself, and in the study he found a note which I suppose was from her, for after he had read it he asked no more questions, but told me she had had to go to Switzerland to her mother, who was ill. But I knew when he got rid of Suzanne two days later that she wasn’t coming back.”

“What time did M. Boirac come in?”

“About one o’clock, or a few minutes after.”

“Were his hat and coat wet?”

“Not very wet, monsieur, but he had been evidently walking through rain.”

“You didn’t make any further search to see if anything else had been taken, I suppose?”

“Yes, monsieur. Suzanne and I searched the entire house most thoroughly on Sunday.”

“With no result?”

“None, monsieur.”

“I suppose the body could not have been concealed anywhere in the house?”

The butler started as this new idea struck him.

“Why, no, monsieur,” he said, “it would have been absolutely impossible. I myself looked in every spot and opened everything large enough to contain it.”

“Thank you, I think that’s about all I want to know. Can you put me in touch with Suzanne?”

“I believe I can get you her address, monsieur, from one of the parlourmaids with whom she was friends.”

“Please do, and in the meantime we shall have a look through the house.”

“You will not require me, monsieur?”

“No, thanks.”

The plan of the downstairs rooms was simple. The hall, which was long and rather