'Who else has a motive?' declared Girac. He waved a hand in the air, dismissing Holmes's doubts. 'The villains behind the crime are unimportant at present. What matters is the deed itself. In the past five years, Huret has been responsible for the deaths of nearly a dozen men. The few clues we've found indicate that he's a man of wealth and breeding. We don't know why such a man would be a killer, as he certainly doesn't need money.'
'Perhaps,' I said, choosing my words carefully, 'he kills to prove his mental superiority over his peers.'
Holmes shook his head. 'For the true intellectual, such
games are unnecessary. This flaw in Huret's character will be his downfall.'
'Let us hope so,' said Guret. 'The man is a master of disguise. No one knows his features or his methods. He strikes like a snake then disappears without ever being seen. Only his victims serve as evidence of his skill.
'You are famous as a solver of crimes, Mr Holmes. However, the challenge faced here is much greater. Can you, without clues or evidence, prevent a murder from taking place? Can you stop Huret, Parisian man-about-town and professional murderer, from crippling my country?'
My friend's eyes glistened with excitement. He lived for such moments. 'Your assessment of the difficulty of the case is correct, Inspector. Preventing a crime verges on the impossible. Outguessing a dedicated assassin requires genius. The criminal can pick his time, his spot, and his method of execution. There are too many variables to prepare for every possibility. And, from what little I have read about Huret, he is the best of the breed. In the past, he has proven unstoppable. But,' and there was more than a hint of arrogance in my friend's voice, 'never before has he been confronted by Sherlock Holmes.'
2
The next morning, Holmes and I set off for Paris. It was a dull, uneventful trip. For secrecy's sake, we traveled on our own, without Girac. Holmes remained deep in thought the entire journey, his eyes closed in concentration. Knowing better than to disturb, I kept myself busy by reading the accounts of Huret's previous crimes left with us by Inspector Girac.
The more I read, the worse I felt. Holmes had faced many challenges in his illustrious career, but never before had he faced a criminal without a face. Huret was no street Apache roaming the back alleys of Paris. The assassin was a gentleman rogue who mocked the police over their inability to stop him.
Though he was responsible for nearly a dozen murders, Huret remained a complete enigma to the Surete. He could be anyone, a fact gleefully picked up by the newspapers who dubbed Huret 'The Boulevard Assassin'. As the journalists had it, the murderer could be the gentleman walking the boulevard at your side. He could be your neighbor or your best friend. He could be anyone.
In one instance, Huret disguised himself as an Earl's footman. Having killed the real servant, Huret took his place, and several days later, murdered the nobleman on the way to the opera. Clearly, Huret's disguise had been so masterful that he completely fooled the Earl, a man who had employed the footman for twenty years.
Perhaps worse, on another occasion, Huret assumed the identity of a chef in one of Paris' leading clubs. In a private room, an elderly Viscount and his three sons were dining. Huret cooked an elaborate dinner – red mullet with Cardinal sauce, turtle soup, oyster pates, fish, sweetbreads, stewed beef, fruit, chocolate creams: ten full courses in all. Huret was seen by the owner of the club and the servants who waited on the diners; all were convinced that Huret was the chef they'd known for the past sixteen years. By the time the servants left the kitchen with the desserts and sherry, Huret was long gone. But the sherry killed all four men.
The only fact known about Huret was that he was a man of tremendous vanity. He delighted in baiting the police. After each crime, he sent a letter to the leading newspapers claiming responsibility for the assassination. According to his statements, he wanted no innocent bystander blamed for his deed. Oftentimes, Huret mentioned sharing a drink with his victim shortly before their death. In his closing, the assassin never failed to state that after posting his letter he would raise a glass of champagne, paid by his ill-gotten gains, in a farewell toast to his victim, then down it with a dish of currant pudding.
That audacious act of knavery elucidated Holmes's only remark on the crimes during our entire trip. We were in a cab speeding to the house Girac had arranged for our use while in Paris. 'You noticed, Watson, that Huret in each of his letters never once fails to describe his farewell toast,' said Holmes, breaking long hours of silence.
'He might be a gentleman in station, Holmes,' I replied, 'but he is a rogue at heart. The insufferable gall of the man, Holmes!'
'Actually, I thought his posts were quite clever,' said Holmes, who then proceeded not to say another word.
Girac met us personally at the house located only a short
distance from the Chamber of Deputies. That he came alone was yet another indication of his mistrust of those in his own office.
'I have done exactly as you requested, Mr Holmes,' said Girac as soon as we were alone. 'I informed several members of the Chamber of Deputies that the President, at my urging, has agreed to take a much-needed vacation in the country. They accepted my story that this constant bickering over the Dreyfus affair has him weary of Paris. Though I refused to reveal the exact location of his hideaway, I did mention a secure villa in the south of France, guarded round the clock by my most trusted assistants.'
'Good work,' said Holmes. 'The trap is set.'
Girac grimaced. 'You suspect one of the ministers is involved in the plot? Or several?'
'Perhaps, perhaps not,' said Holmes mysteriously. 'However. I feel confident that news of Casimir-Perier's trip will soon reach Huret. Aware of his limitations, he will try to strike before the scheduled journey.'
Holmes made no mention of what those limitations might be, and as Girac said nothing, I felt it best to remain silent. Lighting his pipe, Holmes deeply inhaled the smoke. 'You have the President's itinerary for the next few days with you?'
'Of course,' said Girac. 'He is scheduled for a full round of meetings tomorrow. In the evening, he travels to his club for an informal dinner with the Belgian ambassador. Afterwards, he plans to attend a reception for a few close friends at their embassy.The next day, he consults with the Minister of Finance. That night, he is scheduled to attend the opera. The following morning, his supposed vacation begins.'
'The opera,' I declared,. 'that is where Huret will strike. What better location for the rogue. A huge crowd, plenty of noise. A meeting place for the Boulevard set. The perfect place for an assassination attempt.'
'You have the mind of a policeman, Watson,' said Holmes, drawing in another puff of smoke.
He nodded to Girac. 'I'm sure the Doctor would enjoy dinner at the President's club, Girac. Why not arrange for him to accompany you while you keep watch tomorrow evening?'
'But what of you, Holmes?' I asked.
'I shall be nearby, Watson,' replied Holmes, the smoke curling about his head like a mask.
Upon rising the next morning, I discovered Holmes was already gone – on errands, according to Girac – but that he would meet us in the evening. Though he rarely discussed his far travels after his final duel with Professor Moriarity, I knew that Holmes had spent considerable time in Paris. Much of that period was spent investigating the curious affair of the Opera Ghost. My friend knew every twist and turn of the fabled Paris Opera House. I felt certain he was visiting old haunts and making preparations to deal with a new phantom.
I spent most of the day with Girac, reviewing his plans for protecting the President. The Inspector's greatest challenge was to make sure that his men always remained in the background, not noticeable. News of a plot to assassinate Casimir-Perier could be almost as damaging to the state of the nation as the act itself. The President was surrounded by police, but all in disguise, and all at a distance. It was a difficult assignment, but Girac handled it with a cool head and keen mind. I could find no fault in his preparations.
Dinner was at nine, and Girac and I arrived by carriage shortly before it was scheduled to begin. There was no sign of Holmes and I was beginning to worry. Huret had killed a dozen men. Holmes was quite capable of defending himself in a brawl, but what chance did he have against a professional assassin?
The dining room of the club was a small, intimate chamber, with no more than a dozen tables. The rich and powerful of France took supper here and Girac delighted in pointing out those politicians he distrusted, whose number encompassed nearly everyone in the room. In the background, a string quartet played soft music.
The food was excellent, though not the hearty English fare I preferred. Wine flowed freely and after long hours
