turning in the opposite direction, walked down the street towards the city. Lefarge waited for five minutes longer, then, slowly folding up his paper and lighting a cigarette, he left the café.
He strolled a hundred yards farther from the works, then crossed and turning, retraced his steps and passed in through the door from which the managing director had emerged. Handing in his private card, he asked for M. Boirac.
‘I’m sorry, monsieur,’ replied the clerk who had come forward, ‘but he has just gone out. I wonder you didn’t meet him.’
‘No,’ said Lefarge, ‘I must have missed him. But if his confidential clerk is in, perhaps he could see me instead? Is he here at present?’
‘I believe so, monsieur. If you will take a seat, I’ll inquire.’
In a few moments the clerk returned to say that M. Dufresne was in, and he was shown into the presence of a small, elderly man, who was evidently just about to leave for lunch.
‘I rather wanted to see M. Boirac himself, monsieur,’ said Lefarge, when the customary greetings had passed. ‘It is on a private matter, but I think I need hardly wait for M. Boirac, as you can probably tell me what I want to know, if you will be so kind. I am, monsieur, a detective officer from the Sûreté’—here he produced his official card—‘and my visit is in connection with some business about which we are in communication with M. Boirac. You will readily understand I am not at liberty to discuss its details, but in connection with it he called recently at the Sûreté and made a statement. There were, unfortunately, two points which he omitted to tell us and which we, not then understanding they were relevant, omitted to ask. The matter is in connection with his recent visit to Belgium, and the two points I wanted to ask him are, first, the hour he left the office here on that Tuesday, and second, the hour at which he telephoned to you from Charenton that he was making the journey. Perhaps you can tell me, or would you prefer I should wait and see M. Boirac himself?’
The chief clerk did not immediately reply, and Lefarge could see he was uncertain what line he should take. The detective therefore continued:—
‘Pray do not answer me if you feel the slightest hesitation. I can easily wait, if you would rather.’
This had the desired effect and the clerk answered:—
‘Certainly not, monsieur, if you do not wish to do so yourself. I can answer your questions, or at least one of them. The other I am not so sure of. I received the telephone message from M. Boirac from Charenton at about quarter before three. That I am sure of as I particularly noted the time. As to when M. Boirac left here that morning, I cannot be so definite. He asked me at nine o’clock to draft a rather difficult reply to a letter and to take it in to him when ready. It took me half an hour to compose, as several figures had to be got out to make the matter clear. I took it in at 9.30 and he had then gone.’
‘That was on the Tuesday, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, on the Tuesday.’
‘And it was on the Friday morning M. Boirac returned?’
‘That is so, monsieur.’
Lefarge rose.
‘A thousand thanks, monsieur. I am very grateful to you for saving me a long wait.’
He left the office and, walking to the Simplon station of the Metropolitaine, took the train for the centre of the town. He was pleased with his progress. As in the earlier stages of the inquiry, information was coming in rapidly. At first he was inclined to think he had already got enough to confirm the first portion of Boirac’s statement, then his training re-asserted itself, and he decided to go back to the house in the Avenue de l’Alma, and if possible get François’ corroboration. He therefore alighted at Châtelet and took the Maillot train to Alma, walking down the Avenue.
‘Ah, M. François,’ he began, when the butler opened the door. ‘Here I am back to trouble you again. Can you spare me a couple of minutes?’
‘Certainly, monsieur. Come in.’
They went to the same small sitting-room and Lefarge produced his Brazilian cigarettes.
‘How do you like them?’ he asked, as the butler helped himself. ‘Some people think they’re too strong, but they suit me down to the ground. Like strong whiffs, only without the cigar flavour. I won’t keep you a moment. It’s just about that bag of M. Boirac’s you took to the Gare du Nord last Tuesday. Tell me, were you followed to the station?’
‘Followed, monsieur? I? Why no, certainly not. At least not that I know of.’
‘Well, did you observe at the left luggage office a rather tall man, dressed in gray and with a red beard?’
‘No,’ he answered, ‘I saw no one answering to the description.’
‘At what hour did you leave the bag in?’
‘About 3.30, monsieur.’
Lefarge affected to consider.
‘Perhaps it’s my mistake,’ he said at last. ‘It was on Tuesday, wasn’t it?’
‘On Tuesday. Yes, monsieur.’
‘And M. Boirac sent his telephone call about two, did he not? I think he said about two.’
‘It was later, monsieur. It was nearer three. But, monsieur, you fill me with curiosity. How, if I may ask, did you know I took Monsieur’s bag to the station?’
‘He told me last night. He happened to mention he had unexpectedly gone to Belgium, and that you had taken his bag to the left luggage office.’
‘And the man with the red beard?’
Lefarge, having got his information, was not much troubled to justify his little ruse.
‘One of our detectives. He has been on a case of theft of valuable luggage. I wondered if you had seen him. By the way, did M. Boirac bring back the bag with him? It wasn’t stolen?’
Lefarge smiled, and the butler, politely presuming this was meant for a joke, smiled also.
‘It was not stolen, monsieur. He brought it back all right.’
So far so good. M. Boirac had then, beyond any doubt or question, telephoned about 2.45 on Tuesday and had instructed the butler to take his bag to the Gare du Nord, as he had said. Further, he had called there himself and got the bag. So much was certain. But the statement he made of his movements on Sunday and Monday, and the unpacking of the cask on Monday night still remained to be tested. Lefarge spoke again:—
‘While I’m here, M. François, I wonder would you mind checking one or two dates for my report?’ He pulled out his notebook. ‘I will read out and perhaps you would please say if the items are correct. Saturday, 27th March, the day of the dinner-party.’
‘Correct, monsieur.’
‘Sunday, 28th, nothing special occurred. M. Boirac unpacked the cask in the evening.’
‘That’s not right, monsieur. It was on Monday the cask was unpacked.’
‘Ah, Monday.’
