CHAPTER XII
AT THE GARE ST LAZARE
The showrooms consisted of a small but luxuriously fitted up shop, containing many objects of excellence and value. M. Thévenet introduced the manager, M. Thomas, a young and capable looking man, who invited them into his office. He did not speak English, and Lefarge carried on the conversation.
“These gentlemen,” said M. Thévenet, “are making some inquiries about the sale of Le Mareschal’s group to Mr. Felix of London last week. I want you to tell them all you can, Thomas.”
The young man bowed.
“With pleasure, monsieur.”
In a few words Lefarge put him in possession of the main facts. “Perhaps,” he continued, “if you would be kind enough to tell me all that you know, I could then ask questions on any point I did not understand.”
“But certainly, monsieur. There is not much to tell.” He looked up some memoranda. “On Tuesday week, the 30th of March, we had a phone from the head office saying that M. Le Mareschal’s last group, which we had on exhibition in our window, was sold. We were to send it at once to M. Léon Felix, at the London address you know. Also we were to enclose 100 francs, refund of an overpayment of the cost. This was done. The group and the money were duly packed and despatched. Everything was perfectly in order and in accordance with our usual custom. The only remarkable feature in the whole transaction was the absence of a receipt from Felix. I do not think I can recall another instance in which we were not advised of our goods safe arrival, and in this case it was doubly to be expected, owing to the enclosure of money. I might perhaps mention also that on that same Tuesday we had a telephone call from M. Felix, through from London, asking when and by what route we were sending the cask, to which I replied in person.”
The young man paused, and Lefarge asked how the group was packed. “In a number A cask, our usual practice.”
“We have a cask coming along. It will be here presently. Could you identify it?”
“Possibly I or the foreman might.”
“Well, M. Thévenet, I do not think we can get any further till it arrives. There would just be time for dejeuner. We hope you and M. Thomas will give us the pleasure of your company.”
This was agreed to, and they lunched at one of the comfortable restaurants on the Boulevard. When they returned to the shop the cart was waiting.
“We had better have him round to the yard,” said M. Thomas. “If you will go through I will show him the way.”
The yard was a small open area surrounded by sheds. Into one of these the cart was backed and the cask unpacked. M. Thomas examined it.
“That’s certainly one of our casks,” he said. “They are our own design and, so far as I am aware, are used by no one else.”
“But, M. Thomas,” said Lefarge, “can you identify it in any special manner? We do not, of course, doubt what you have said, but if it could be established that this particular cask had passed through your yard it would be important. Otherwise, if you judge only by likeness to type, we cannot be sure that some one has not copied your design to try and start a false scent.”
“I see what you mean, but I fear I cannot certify what you want. But I’ll call the foreman and packers. Possibly some of them can help you.”
He went into another of the sheds, returning immediately with four men.
“Look at that cask, men,” he said. “Have any of you ever seen it before?”
The men advanced and inspected the cask minutely, looking at it from all sides. Two of them retreated, shaking their heads, but the third, an elderly man with white hair, spoke up.
“Yes,” he said. “I packed this cask not a fortnight ago.”
“How are you so certain of that?” asked Lefarge.
“By this, monsieur,” said the man, pointing to the broken stave. “That stave was split. I remember quite well the shape of the crack. I noticed it, and wondered if I should report it to the foreman, and then I thought it was safe enough and didn’t. But I told my mate about it. See here, Jean,” he called to the fourth man, “is that the crack I showed you some days ago, or is it only like it?”
The fourth man advanced and inspected it in his turn.
“It’s the same one,” he said confidently. “I know, because I thought that split was the shape of my hand, and so it is.”
He placed his hand on the adjoining stave, and there certainly was a rude resemblance in shape.
“I supposed neither of you men remember what you packed in it, or whom it was for?”
“As far as I remember,” said the third man, “it was a statue of three or four women, but I don’t remember who it was for.”
“It wasn’t for a man called Felix, of London?”
“I remember the name, but I can’t say if it was for him.”
“Thank you. Would you tell me how it was packed? What steadied the group?”
“Sawdust, monsieur, simply sawdust, carefully rammed.”
“Can you tell me if the railway cart took it from here, or how did it go?”
“No, monsieur, it was taken by one of our own motor lorries from the Grenelle works.”
“Did you know the driver?”
“Yes, monsieur, it was Jules Fouchard.”
“I suppose, monsieur,” Lefarge turned to the managing director, “we could interview this man Fouchard?”
“Why, certainly. M. Thomas will find out where he is.”
“Pardon, messieurs,” interposed the elderly packer, “but he’s here now. Or at least I saw him not ten minutes ago.”
“Good. Then try and find him, and tell him not to go away till we have seen him.”
In a few moments the driver was found and, having asked him to wait outside, Lefarge continued his questions to the packer.
“At what o’clock did the cask leave here?”
“About four. I had it packed and ready by two, but the lorry did not come for a couple of hours after that.”
“Did you see it loaded up?”
“I helped to load it up.”
“Now tell me,” continued Lefarge, “where was the cask between the time you put the group in and the arrival of the motor?”
“Here, monsieur, in this shed where I packed it.”
“And did you leave it during that time?”
“No, monsieur, I was here all the time.”
“So that—please be very careful about this—no one could have tampered with it in any way up till the time it left the yard?”
“Absolutely impossible, monsieur. It is quite out of the question.”
“Thank you, we are exceedingly obliged to you,” said Lefarge, slipping a couple of francs into the man’s hand as he withdrew. “Now, could I see the lorry driver?”
Jules Fouchard proved to be a small, energetic looking man, with sharp features and intelligent eyes. He was sure of his facts, and gave his answers clearly and without hesitation.
“M. Fouchard,” began Lefarge, “this gentleman and I are trying to trace the movements of one of your casks, which I am informed left here by your lorry about four o’clock on Tuesday, the thirtieth of March last. Can you recall the occasion?”
“Permit me to get my delivery book, monsieur.”
He disappeared for a moment, returning with a small, cloth-covered book. Rapidly turning over the pages, he found what he was looking for.
“For M. Léon Felix, 141 West Jubb Street, Tottenham Court Road, London? Yes, monsieur. It was the only cask which left here that day. I took it to the Gare St. Lazare and handed it to the railway officials. Here is their signature for it.”
He passed the book over and Lefarge read the name.
“Thank you. Who is this Jean Duval? I shall probably want to see him and would like to know where to find him.”
“He is a clerk in the departure passenger cloak-room.”
“You left here with the cask, I understand, about four o’clock?”
“About that, monsieur.”
“And what time did you arrive at the Gare St. Lazare?”
“Just a few minutes later. I went direct.”
“You didn’t stop on the way?”
“No, monsieur.”
“Well now, monsieur, please don’t answer till you have considered carefully. Was there any way in which the cask could have been tampered with between the time it was loaded up here and your handing it over to Jean Duval at the Gare St. Lazare?”
“None, monsieur. No one could have got on the lorry without my knowledge, much less have done anything to the cask.”
“And I take it from that, it would have been equally impossible to remove it entirely and substitute another?”
“It would have been absolutely out of the question, monsieur.”
After thanking and dismissing the driver, they returned to the manager’s room.
“The position, then, seems to be this,” said Lefarge, as they sat down. “The cask left your yard containing a group of statuary, and it arrived in London containing the dead body of a woman. The change must therefore have been effected along the route, and the evidence of the steamer people seems to narrow it down to between here and Rouen.”
“Why Rouen?” asked both gentlemen in a breath.
“Well, I should have said, perhaps, between here and the time of loading on to the steamer at Rouen wharf.”
“But I am afraid you are making a mistake there,” said M. Thomas; “the cask went by Havre. All our stuff does.”
“Pardon me, M. Thomas, for seeming to contradict you,” said Burnley, in his somewhat halting French, “but I am as certain of it as of my presence here now, however the cask may have been sent, it certainly arrived in the London Docks by the Insular and Continental Steam Navigation Company’s boat from Rouen.”
“But that is most mysterious,” rejoined M. Thomas. He struck a bell and a clerk appeared.
“Bring me the railway papers about the sending of that cask to Felix, London, on the thirtieth ultimo.”
“Here you are,” he said to Burnley, when the clerk returned. “Look at that. That is the receipt from the St. Lazare people for the freight on the cask between this and the address in London, per passenger train via Havre and Southampton.”
“Well,” said Burnley, “this gets me altogether. Tell me,” he added after a pause, “when Felix telephoned you from London asking when and by what route you were sending the cask, what did you reply?”
“I told him it was crossing on Tuesday night, the 30th of March, by Havre and Southampton.”
“We’d better go to St. Lazare,” said Lefarge. “Perhaps M. Thomas will kindly lend us that receipt?”
“Certainly, but you must please sign for it, as I shall want it for my audit.”
They parted with expressions of thanks on the part of the detectives, who promised to keep the others advised of the progress of the inquiry.
A taxi brought them to St. Lazare, where, at the office of the superintendent of the line, Lefarge’s card had the usual magical effect.
“Please be seated, gentlemen,” said the superintendent, “and let me know what I can do for you.”
Lefarge showed him the receipt.
“The matter is somewhat puzzling,” he said. “That cask, as you see, was invoiced out via Havre and Southampton on the 30th ultimo, and yet it turned up in London on Monday, the 5th instant, by the Insular and Continental Steam Navigation Company’s boat Bullfinch from Rouen. The contents of the cask when it left Messrs. Dupierre’s showroom was a group of statuary, but when it arrived at St. Katharine’s Docks—well, I may tell you, monsieur, in confidence—it contained the body of a woman—murdered.”
The superintendent gave an exclamation of surprise.
“You see, therefore, monsieur, the necessity of our tracing the cask as privately as possible.”
“I certainly do. If you will wait a few minutes, gentlemen, I can get you part at least of the information you want.”
The few minutes had expanded into nearly an hour before the superintendent returned.
“Sorry to have kept you so long,” he apologised. “I find that your cask was delivered at our outward passenger cloak-room at about 4.15 p.m. on the 30th ultimo. It remained there until about 7.00 p.m., and during all this time it was under the personal supervision of one of the clerks named Duval, a most conscientious and reliable man. He states it stood in full view of his desk, and it would have been quite impossible for any one to have tampered with it. He particularly remembers it from its peculiar shape and its weight, as well as because it was an unusual object to send by passenger train. At about 7.00 p.m. it was taken charge of by two porters and placed in the van of the 7.47 p.m. English boat train. The guard of the train was present when they put it into the van, and he should have been there till the train left. The guard is unfortunately off duty at present, but I have sent for him and will get his statement. Once the train left, the cask would simply be bound to go to Havre. If it had not done so with that insurance on it, we should have heard about it. However, I will communicate with our agent at Havre, and I should be able to get definite information in the morning.”
“But, my dear sir,” cried Burnley helplessly, “I know of my own knowledge that it came by long sea from Rouen. I don’t for one moment doubt your word, but there must be a mistake somewhere.”
“Ah,” returned the superintendent, smiling, “now I come to something that will interest you. The cask we have just spoken of was sent out on the evening of the 30th ult. But I find another cask was despatched three days later, on the 1st instant. It also was addressed to M. Felix at the same London address and sent in by Messrs. Dupierre. It was labelled via Rouen and the I. and C. Company’s boat. It went by goods train that night, and I will get our Rouen agent to try and trace it, though, as he would have had no reason to remark it, I doubt if he will be able to do so.”
Burnley swore. “I beg your pardon, sir, but this gets deeper and deeper. Two casks!” He groaned.
“At least,” said the superintendent, “it has cleared up your difficulty about how a cask that left by one route arrived by another.”
“It has done that, monsieur, and we are really extremely obliged for all your kindness and trouble.”
“If there is anything else I can do I shall be very pleased.” “Thank you again. The only other point is to trace the cart that brought the second cask.”
“Ah,” the superintendent shook his head; “I can’t do that for you, you know.”
“Of course not. But perhaps you could get hold of, or put us in a position to get hold of your men who received the cask? We might get some information from them.”
“I shall do what I can. Now, gentlemen, if you will call any time in the morning, I shall let you have any further information I receive.”
The detectives, having thanked him again, bowed themselves out and, strolling up and down the vast concourse, discussed their plans.
“I should like to wire to London now, and also to write by to-night’s post,” said Burnley. “They’ll want to get on to tracing that second cask from Waterloo as soon as possible.”
“Well, the ordinary letter-boxes are clear at half-past six, but if you are late you can post in the van of the English mail at the Gare du Nord up till 9.10 p.m., so you have plenty of time for that later. What about sending your wire from here now, and then going to the Hotel Continental to look up your friend Felix?”
Burnley agreed, and when the telegram had been sent they took another taxi and drove to the Continental. Lefarge’s card produced immediately a polite and agreeable manager, anxious to assist.
“We are trying to trace a man whom we believe stayed here recently,” explained Lefarge. “His name was Léon Felix.”
“A rather short and slight man with a black beard and a pleasing manner?” replied the manager. “Oh, yes, I know M. Felix very well, and very pleasant I have always found him. He was here recently. I will inquire the exact dates.”
He disappeared for a few seconds.
“He was here from Saturday, the 13th of March, till Monday, the 15th. Then he returned on Friday, the 26th, and left again on the morning of Sunday, the 28th, to catch the 8.20 train for England at the Gare du Nord.”
The two detectives exchanged glances of surprise.
“Could you let me compare his signature in your register with one I have here?” asked Burnley. “I am anxious to make sure it is the same man.”
“Certainly,” replied the manager, leading the way.
The signature was the same, and, after thanking the manager, they took their departure.
“That’s an unexpected find,” Burnley remarked. “Felix said nothing to me about being here ten days ago.”
“It’s a bit suggestive, you know,” returned his companion. “We’ll have to find out what he was doing during the visit.”
Burnley nodded.
“Now for my report, anyway,” he said.
“I think I’ll go to the Sûreté and do the same,” answered Lefarge.
They parted, having arranged to meet later in the evening. Burnley wrote a detailed account of his day to his Chief, asking him to have inquiries made at Waterloo about the second cask. Having posted it, he gave himself up to a study of Felix’s letter ordering the group of statuary.
It was written on a sheet of the same kind of paper as those of the two typewritten letters received by Felix. Burnley carefully compared the watermarks and satisfied himself on the point. Then, drawing from his pocket the address he had got Felix to write in the house on the Great North Road, he compared them.
The handwriting was the same in each, at least that was his first impression, but on a closer examination he felt somewhat less certain. He was not a handwriting expert, but he had come across a good many of these men, and was aware of some of their methods. He applied those he knew and at last came to the conclusion that Felix had written the order, though a certain doubt remained. He wrote another note to his Chief and enclosed the two letters, asking him to have them compared.
Then he went out to spend the evening with Lefarge.