CHAPTER X
WHO WROTE THE LETTER?
At ten o’clock next morning Lefarge called for Burnley at the latter’s hotel in the rue Castiglione.
“Now for M. Alphonse Le Gautier, the wine merchant,” said the former as he hailed a taxi.
A short drive brought them to the rue de Vallorbes, off the Avenue Friedland, and there they discovered that the gentleman they were in search of was no myth, but a creature of real flesh and blood. He occupied a flat on the first floor of a big corner house, and the spacious approach and elegant furnishing indicated that he was a man of culture and comparative wealth. He had gone, they were told, to his office in the rue Henri Quatre, and thither the two friends followed him. He was a man of about five-and-thirty, with jet black hair and a pale, hawk-like face, and his manner was nervous and alert.
“We have called, monsieur,” said Lefarge, when the detectives had introduced themselves, “at the instance of M. le Chef de la Sûreté, to ask your assistance in a small inquiry we are making. We want to trace the movements of a gentleman who is perhaps not unknown to you, a M. Léon Felix, of London.”
“Léon Felix? Why, of course I know him. And what has he been up to?”
“Nothing contrary to the law, monsieur,” returned Lefarge with a smile, “or, at least, we believe not. But unfortunately, in the course of another inquiry a point has arisen which makes it necessary for us to check some statements he has made about his recent actions. It is in this we want your help.”
“I don’t think I can tell you much about him, but any questions you ask I’ll try to answer.”
“Thank you, M. Le Gautier. Not to waste your time, then, I’ll begin without further preface. When did you last meet M. Felix?”
“Well, it happens I can tell you that, for I had a special reason to note the date.” He referred to a small pocket diary. “It was on Sunday the 14th of March, four weeks ago next Sunday.”
“And what was the special reason to which you refer?”
“This. On that day M. Felix and I made an arrangement to purchase coupons in the Government lotteries. He handed me 500 francs as his share, and I was to add another 500 francs and put the business through. Naturally I noted the transaction in my engagement book.”
“Can you tell me under what circumstances this arrangement came to be made?”
“Certainly. It was the result of an otherwise idle conversation on the lottery system, which took place that afternoon between a number of men, of whom I was one, at the Café Toisson d’Or, in the rue Royale. At the close of the discussion I said I would try my luck. I asked Felix to join me, and he did so.”
“And did you purchase the bonds?”
“I did. I wrote enclosing a cheque that same evening.”
“And I hope your speculation turned out successfully?”
M. Le Gautier smiled.
“Well, I can hardly tell you that, you know. The drawing will not be made till next Thursday.”
“Next Thursday? Then I can only hope you will have luck. Did you write M. Felix that you had actually moved in the matter?”
“No, I took it, that went without saying.”
“So that you have not communicated with M. Felix in any way since last Sunday three weeks?”
“That is so.”
“I see. Now, another point, M. Le Gautier. Are you acquainted with a M. Dumarchez, a stockbroker, whose office is in the Boulevard Poissonière?”
“I am. As a matter of fact he also was present at the discussion about the lotteries.”
“And since that discussion you made a certain bet with him?”
“A bet?” M. Le Gautier looked up sharply. “I don’t understand you. I made no bet.”
“Do you remember having a discussion with M. Dumarchez about criminals pitting their wits against the police?”
“No, I recollect nothing of the kind.”
“Are you prepared, monsieur, to say that no such conversation took place?”
“Certainly, I do say it. And I should very much like to know the purport of all these questions.”
“I am sorry, monsieur, for troubling you with them, and I can assure you they are not idle. The matter is a serious one, though I am not at liberty to explain it fully at present. But if you will bear with me I would like to ask one or two other things. Can you let me have the names of those present at the Toisson d’Or when the conversation about the lotteries took place?”
M. Le Gautier remained silent for some moments.
“I hardly think I can,” he said at last. “You see, there was quite a fair sized group. Besides Felix, Dumarchez, and myself, I can recollect M. Henri Briant and M. Henri Boisson. I think there were others, but I cannot recall who they were.”
“Was a M. Daubigny one of them?”
“You are right. I had forgotten him. He was there.”
“And M. Jaques Rôget?”
“I’m not sure.” M. Le Gautier hesitated again. “I think so, but I’m not really sure.”
“Can you let me have the addresses of these gentlemen?”
“Some of them. M. Dumarchez lives five doors from me in the rue de Vallorbes. M. Briant lives near the end of the rue Washington, where it turns into the Champs Élysées . The other addresses I cannot tell you off-hand, but I can help you to find them in a directory.”
“Many thanks. Now, please excuse me for going back a moment. You gave me to understand you did not write to M. Felix on the subject of the lottery?”
“Yes, I said so, I think, quite clearly.”
“But M. Felix states the very opposite. He says he received a letter from you, dated Thursday, 1st April, that is this day week.”
M. Le Gautier stared.
“What’s that you say? He says he heard from me? There must be a mistake there, monsieur, for I did not write to him.”
“But he showed me the letter.”
“Impossible, monsieur. He could not have shown you what did not exist. Whatever letter he may have shown you was not from me. I should like to see it. Have you got it there?”
For answer Lefarge held out the sheet which Felix had given to Burnley during their midnight conversation at the villa of St. Malo. As M. Le Gautier read it the look of wonder on his expressive face deepened.
“Extraordinary!” he cried, “but here is a mystery! I never wrote, or sent, or had any knowledge of such a letter. It’s not only a forgery, but it’s a pure invention. There’s not a word of truth in that story of the bet and the cask from beginning to end. Tell me something more about it. Where did you get it?”
“From M. Felix himself. He gave it to Mr. Burnley here, saying it was from you.”
“But, good heavens!” the young man sprang to his feet and began pacing up and down the room, “I can’t understand that. Felix is a decent fellow, and he wouldn’t say it was from me if he didn’t believe it. But how could he believe it? The thing is absurd.” He paused and then continued. “You say, monsieur, that Felix said this note was from me. But what made him think so? There’s not a scrap of writing about it. It isn’t even signed. He must have known any one could write a letter and type my name below it. And then, how could he suppose that I should write such a tissue of falsehoods.”
“But that is just the difficulty,” returned Lefarge. “It’s not so false as you seem to imagine. The description of the conversation about the lottery and your arrangement with Felix to purchase bonds is, by your own admission, true.”
“Yes, that part is, but the rest, all that about a bet and a cask, is wholly false.”
“But there I fear you are mistaken also, monsieur. The part about the cask is apparently true. At least the cask arrived, addressed as described, and on the day mentioned.”
Again the young merchant gave an exclamation of astonishment.
“The cask arrived?” he cried. “Then there really was a cask?” He paused again. “Well, I cannot understand it, but I can only repeat that I never wrote that letter, nor have I the slightest idea of what it is all about.”
“It is, of course, obvious, monsieur, as you point out, that any one could have typed a letter ending with your name. But you will admit it is equally obvious that only a person who knew of your entering the lottery could have written it. You tell us you are not that person, and we fully accept your statement. Who else then, M. Le Gautier, had this information?”
“As far as that goes, any one who was present at the discussion at the Toisson d’Or.”
“Quite so. Hence you will see the importance of my questions as to who these were.”
M. Le Gautier paced slowly up and down the room, evidently thinking deeply.
“I don’t know that I do,” he said at last. “Suppose everything in that letter was true. Suppose, for argument’s sake, I had written it. What then? What business of the police is it? I can’t see that the law has been broken.”
Lefarge smiled.
“That ought to be clear enough, anyway. Look at the facts. A cask arrives in London by the I. and C. boat from Rouen, labelled to a man named Felix at the certain address. Inquiries show that no one of that name lives at that address. Further, the cask is labelled “Statuary,” but examination shows that it does not contain statuary, but money, sovereigns. Then a man representing himself as Felix appears, states he lives at the false address, which is untrue, says he is expecting by that boat a cask of statuary, which is also untrue, and claims the one in question. The steamer people, being naturally suspicious, will not give it up, but by a trick Felix gets hold of it, and takes it to quite another address. When questioned by the police he produces this letter to account for his actions. I do not think it surprising that we are anxious to learn who wrote the letter, and if its contents are true.”
“No, no, of course it is reasonable. I did not understand the sequence of events. All the same, it is the most extraordinary business I ever heard of.”
“It is strange, certainly. Tell me, M. Le Gautier, have you ever had any disagreement with Mr. Felix? Can you imagine him having, or thinking he had, any cause of offence against you?”
“Nothing of the kind.”
“You never gave him cause, however innocently, to feel jealousy?”
“Never. But why do you ask?”
“I was wondering whether he might not have played a trick on you, and have written the letter himself.”
“No, no. I’m sure it’s not that. Felix is a very straight, decent fellow. He would not do a thing like that.”
“Well, can you think of any one who might be glad to give you annoyance? What about the men who were present when you discussed the lottery? Or any one else at all?”
“I cannot think of a single person.”
“Did you tell any one about this matter of the lottery?”
“No. I never mentioned it.”
“One other question, monsieur, and I have done. Did you at any time borrow £50 or the equivalent of French money from M. Felix.”
“I never borrowed from him at all.”
“Or do you know any one who borrowed such a sum from him?”
“No one, monsieur.”
“Then, monsieur, allow me to express my regret for the annoyance given, and my thanks for your courteous replies to my questions.” He flashed a glance at Burnley. “If we might still further inflict ourselves on you, I should like, with your permission, to ask M. Dumarchez to join us here so that we may talk the matter over together.”
“An excellent idea, monsieur. Do so by all means.”
One of the eventualities the colleagues had discussed before starting their morning’s work was the possible denial by M. Le Gautier of any bet with M. Dumarchez. They had decided that in such a case the latter must be interrogated before a communication could reach him from Le Gautier. It was with this in view that Lefarge left his friend with the wine-merchant, while going himself to interview his neighbour.
As the detective reached the door of the stockbroker’s office in the Boulevard Poissonière it opened and a middle-aged gentleman with a long, fair beard emerged.
“Pardon, but are you M. Dumarchez?” asked Lefarge.
“My name, monsieur. Did you wish to see me?”
The detective introduced himself, and briefly stated his business.
“Come in, monsieur,” said the other. “I have an appointment in another part of Paris shortly, but I can give you ten minutes.” He led the way into his private room and waved his visitor to a chair.
“It is the matter of the bet, monsieur,” began Lefarge. “The test has failed, and the police have therefore to satisfy themselves that the cask was really sent with the object stated.”
M. Dumarchez stared.
“I do not understand,” he replied. “To what bet are you referring?”
“To the bet between you and M. Le Gautier. You see, M. Felix’s dealings with the cask are the result of the bet, and it must be obvious to you that confirmation of his statement is required.”
The stockbroker shook his head with decision as if to close the conversation.
“You have made some mistake, monsieur. I made no bet with M. Le Gautier and, for the rest, I have no idea what you are speaking of.”
“But, monsieur, M. Felix stated directly that you had bet M. Le Gautier he could not get the cask away. If that is not true, it may be serious for him.”
“I know nothing of any cask. What Felix are you referring to?”
“M. Léon Felix, of St. Malo, London.”
A look of interest passed over the stockbroker’s face.
“Léon Felix? I certainly know him. A decent fellow he is too. And you mean to say he told you I was mixed up with some matter connected with a cask?”
“Certainly. At least he told my colleague, Mr. Burnley, of the London police.”
“My dear monsieur, your colleague must be dreaming. Felix must have been speaking of some one else.”
“I assure you not, monsieur. There is no mistake. M. Felix states the bet arose out of a conversation on the State lotteries, which took place in the Café Toisson d’Or, three weeks ago last Sunday, at which you were present.”
“He is right about the conversation, anyway. I recollect that quite well, but I know nothing whatever of any bet. Certainly, I made none.”
“In that case, monsieur, I have to offer my apologies for having troubled you. I can see a mistake has been made. But before I leave, perhaps you would have the kindness to tell me who else were present on that occasion. Probably I should have gone to one of them.”
After some consideration M. Dumarchez mentioned three names, all of which Lefarge already had in his notebook. Then excusing himself on the ground of his appointment, the stockbroker hurried away, while Lefarge returned to report to Burnley and M. Le Gautier.
During the afternoon the colleagues called on each of the men whose names they had been given as having been present at the Café Toisson d’Or when the lottery discussion took place. M. Briant had gone to Italy, but they saw the others, and in each case the result was the same. All remembered the conversation, but none knew anything of the bet or the cask. Inquiries from the waiters at the Toisson d’Or likewise were without result.
“We don’t seem to get much forrader,” remarked Burnley, as the two friends sat over their coffee after dinner that evening. “I am inclined to believe that these men we have seen really don’t know anything about the cask.”
“I agree with you,” returned Lefarge. “At any rate it shouldn’t be difficult to test at least part of their statements. We can find out from the lottery people whether Le Gautier did purchase 1000 francs worth of bonds on Sunday three weeks. If he did, I think we must take it that the story of the conversation in the Toisson d’Or is true, and that he and Felix did agree to go in for it jointly.”
“There can be no reasonable doubt of that.”
“Further, we can find out if the drawing takes place next Thursday. If it does, it follows that all that part of the letter about the winning of the money and the test with the cask is false. If, on the other hand, it has already been made, the letter may conceivably be true, and Le Gautier is lying. But I don’t think that likely.”
“Nor I. But I don’t quite agree with you about the letter. We already know the letter is false. It said £988 would be sent in the cask, whereas there was a body and £52 10s. But the question of the test is not so clear to me. The cask did come as described in the letter, bearing the false address and description, and if it was not so sent for the reason mentioned, what other reason can you suggest?”
“None, I admit.”
“Let us see, then, just what we do know about the writer of the letter. Firstly, he must have known of the conversation about the lottery, and of the arrangement made by Felix and Le Gautier to enter for it. That is to say, he must either have been present in the Toisson d’Or when it took place, or some one who was there must have repeated it to him. Secondly, he must have known all the circumstances of the sending out of the cask, at least as far as the false address and description were concerned. Thirdly, he must have had access to a rather worn typewriter, which we believe could be identified, and fourthly, he must have possessed, or been able to procure French note paper. So much is certain. We may also assume, though it has neither been proved, nor is it very important, that he could use the typewriter himself, as it is unlikely that such a letter would be done by a typist from dictation.”
“That’s true, and so far as I can see, the only man that fills the bill so far is Felix himself.”
“I don’t think it was Felix. I believe he was telling the truth all right. But we haven’t enough information yet to judge. Perhaps when we follow up the cask we shall be able to connect some of these men we saw to-day with it.”
“Possibly enough,” answered Lefarge, rising. “If we are to get to the Sûreté by nine, we had better go.”
“Is it your Chief’s habit to hold meetings at nine o’clock? It seems a curious time to me.”
“And he’s a curious man, too. First rate at his job, you know, and decent, and all that. But peculiar. He goes away in the afternoons, and comes back after dinner and works half the night. He says he gets more peace then?”
“I dare say he does, but it’s a rum notion for all that.”
M. Chauvet listened with close attention to the report of the day’s proceedings and, after Lefarge ceased speaking, sat motionless for several seconds, buried in thought. Then, like a man who arrives at a decision he spoke:—
“The matter, so far as we have gone, seems to resolve itself into these points. First, did a conversation about the lotteries take place in the Café Toisson d’Or about four weeks ago? I think we may assume that it did. Second, did Felix and Le Gautier agree to enter, and if so, did Le Gautier send a cheque that day? Here we can get confirmation by making inquiries at the lottery offices, and I will send a man there to-morrow. Third, has the drawing taken place? This can be ascertained in the same way. Beyond that, I do not think we can go at present, and I am of opinion our next move should be to try and trace the cask. That line of inquiry may lead us back to one of these gentlemen you have seen to-day, or may point to some one else whom we may find was present at the Toisson d’Or. What do you think, gentlemen?”
“We had both arrived at the same conclusion, monsieur,” answered Lefarge.
“Well then, you will make inquiries about the cask to-morrow, will you? Good. I will look-out for you in the evening.”
Having arranged eight o’clock at the Gare du Nord for the rendezvous next day, the detectives bid each other good-night and went their ways.