La Touche was a good traveller, and usually slept well on a night journey. But not always. It sometimes happened that the rhythmic rush and roar through the darkness stimulated rather than lulled his brain, and on such occasions, lying in the wagon-lits of some long-distance express, more than one illuminating idea had had its birth. To-night, as he sat in the corner of a first-class compartment in the Calais-Paris train, though outwardly a lounging and indolent figure, his mind was keenly alert, and he therefore took the opportunity to consider the business which lay before him. His first duty obviously was to re-test Boirac’s alibi. He had learnt what the authorities had done in the matter, and he would begin his work by checking Lefarge’s investigation. For the moment he did not see how to improve on his confrère’s methods, and he could only hope that some clue would present itself during his researches, which his predecessor had missed.
So far he was in no doubt as to his proceedings, for this inquiry into Boirac’s alibi had been directly asked for by his employers. But, after that, he had been given a free hand to do as he thought best.
He turned to what he considered the central feature of the case—the finding of the body in the cask—and began to separate in his mind the facts actually known about it from those assumed. Firstly, the body was in the cask when the latter reached St. Katherine’s Docks. Secondly, it could not have been put in during the journey from the rue Cardinet Goods Station. So much was certain. But the previous step in the cask’s journey was surmise. It was assumed that it had been taken from the Gare du Nord to the rue Cardinet on a horse-cart. On what was this assumption founded? Three facts. First, that it left the Gare du Nord on a horse-cart; second, that it reached the rue Cardinet in the same manner; and third, that such a vehicle would have occupied about the time the trip had actually taken. The assumption seemed reasonable, and yet. . . . He had to remember that they were up against a man of no ordinary ability, whoever he might be. Might not the cask have been taken by the first horse-cart to some adjoining house or shed where the body could have been put in, then sent by motor-lorry to some other shed near the Goods Station and there transferred to a horse-cart again? This undoubtedly seemed far-fetched and unlikely, nevertheless, the facts were not known, and, he thought, they should be. He must find the carter who brought the cask to the Goods Station. Then he would be certain where the body was put in, and therefore whether the murder was committed in London or Paris.
He noted a third point. The various letters in the case—and there were several—might or might not be forgeries, and if the former, it was obviously impossible for him to say off-hand who had written them. But there was one letter which could not be a forgery—at least in a certain sense. The Le Gautier letter which Felix said he had received was done on a typewriter which could be identified. It was hardly too much to assume that the man who typed that letter was the murderer. Find the typewriter, thought La Touche, and the chances are it will lead to the guilty man.
A further point struck him. If Boirac were guilty, might he not even yet give himself away? The detective recalled case after case in his own experience in which a criminal had, after the crime, done something or gone somewhere that had led to his arrest. Would it be worth while having Boirac shadowed? He considered the question carefully and finally decided to bring over two of his men for this purpose.
Here, then, were four directions in which inquiries might be made, of which the first three at least promised a certain and definite result. As the train slackened speed for the capital, he felt his work was cut out for him.
And then began a period of tedious and unprofitable work. He was very efficient, very thorough and very pertinacious, but the only result of all his painstaking labours was to establish more firmly than ever the truth of Boirac’s statements.
He began with the waiter at Charenton. Very skilfully he approached the subject, and, painting a moving picture of an innocent man falsely accused of murder, he gradually enlisted the man’s sympathy. Then he appealed to his cupidity, promising him a liberal reward for information that would save his client, and finally he soothed his fears by promising that in no case should any statement he might make get him into trouble. The waiter, who seemed a quiet, honest man, was perfectly open, and readily replied to all La Touche’s questions, but except on one point he stoutly adhered to his previous statement to Lefarge. M. Boirac—whom he identified unhesitatingly from a photograph—had lunched in the café about 1.30, and had then telephoned to two separate places—he had heard the two numbers asked for. As before, he made the reservation that he was not certain of the day of the week, his impression having been that it was Monday and not Tuesday, but he stated that in this he might easily be mistaken. There was no shaking his evidence, and La Touche was strongly of the opinion that the man was speaking the truth.
But as well as repeating his statement to Lefarge, the waiter added one item of information that seemed important. Asked if he could not recall either of the numbers demanded, he now said he recollected the last two figures of one of them. They were 45. They caught his attention because they were the café’s own telephone number—Charenton 45. He could not recall either the previous figures of the number nor yet the division. He had intended to tell this to Lefarge, but being somewhat upset by the detective’s call, the point had slipped his memory, and it was only when thinking the matter over afterwards it had occurred to him.
For La Touche to look up the telephone directory was the work of a few seconds. The number of Boirac’s house in the Avenue de l’Alma did not suit, but when he looked up the Pump Construction Office he found it was Nord 745.
Here was fresh confirmation. It was obvious the waiter could not have invented his tale, and La Touche left utterly convinced that Boirac had indeed lunched at the café and sent the messages.
As he was returning to the city it occurred to him that perhaps the waiter’s impression was really correct and that Boirac had been in the café on Monday afternoon instead of Tuesday. How was this point to be ascertained?
He recollected how Lefarge had settled it. He had interviewed the persons to whom Boirac had spoken, the butler and the head clerk, and both were certain of that date. La Touche decided he must follow Lefarge’s example.
Accordingly he called at the house in the Avenue de l’Alma and saw Fran?ois. He was surprised to find the old man genuinely grieved at the news of Felix’s arrest. Few though the occasions had been in which the two had met, something in the personality of the former had in this case, as in so many others, inspired attachment and respect. La Touche therefore adopted the same tactics as with the waiter, and, on his explaining that he was acting for the suspected man, he found Fran?ois anxious to give all the help in his power.
But here again all that La Touche gained was confirmation of Boirac’s statement. Fran?ois recollected the telephone message, and he was sure Boirac had spoken. He positively recognised the voice and equally positively he remembered the day. It was Tuesday. He was able to connect it with a number of other small events which definitely fixed it.
‘Lefarge was right,’ thought the detective, as he strolled up the Avenue de l’Alma. ‘Boirac telephoned from ............