“Send in the station witnesses.”
In a moment or two the door opened to admit a man whom I recognized as being a porter at Merlinville station.
“You were on duty on the night of June 7th?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“You witnessed the arrival of the 11:40 train?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Look at the prisoner. Do you recognize him as having been one of the passengers to alight?”
“Yes, Monsieur le juge.”
“There is no possibility of your being mistaken?”
“No, monsieur. I knew M. Jack Renauld well.”
“Nor of your being mistaken as to the date?”
“No, monsieur. Because it was the following morning, June 8th, that we heard of the murder.”
Another railway official was brought in, and confirmed the first one’s evidence. The magistrate looked at Jack Renauld.
“These men have identified you positively. What have you to say?”
Jack shrugged his shoulders.
“Nothing.”
M. Hautet exchanged a glance with the greffier, as the scratching of the latter’s pen recorded the answer.
“Renauld,” continued the magistrate, “do you recognize this?”
He took something from the table by his side, and held it out to the prisoner. I shuddered as I recognized the aeroplane dagger.
“Pardon,” cried Maître Grosíer. “I demand to speak to my client before he answers that question.”
But Jack Renauld had no consideration for the feelings of the wretched Grosíer. He waved him aside, and replied quietly:
“Certainly I recognize it. It is a present given by me to my mother, as a souvenir of the War.”
“Is there, as far as you know, any duplicate of that dagger in existence?”
