indications appear in it: the recent damaging of the buzzer system at the gate (which is no news to Wallas) and fresh tracks discovered on the narrow strip of lawn along the west end of the house; the measurements of these footprints are indicated, as well as the average length of the strides.
A little more attention is paid, this time, to the housekeeper’s words. Wallas even recognizes, in the phrases quoted, the old woman’s favorite expressions. In particular, the complete story of the damaged telephone line is given and Madame Smite’s vain efforts to have it repaired.
After taking the housekeeper’s testimony, the zealous inspector has interviewed the concierge from the apartment house across the street and the manager of a “small cafe located some twenty yards away, at number 10”-the Cafe des Allies. The concierge refers to the regular visitors to the house; he himself often sits-particularly in the spring and summer-on his doorstep in the afternoons, just opposite the garden gate; consequently he has been able to observe that very few people visited the victim: the postman, the employee from the public utilities system, occasionally a salesman of Venetian blinds or vacuum cleaners, as well as four or five gentlemen whom it is difficult at first glance to distinguish from salesmen-for they wear the same type of suit and carry the same briefcase-but who are businessmen from the city, professors, doctors, etc. It is apparent that the author only reproduces all these trifling remarks out of a concern for objectivity; and despite the care he takes to present what follows with the same detachment, he obviously regards it as much more important. It concerns a young man, apparently a student, extremely simply dressed, short, even somewhat puny; this boy had apparently come several times during the course of the summer, then after a lacuna of more than a month, three times in a row during the second week in October-the week when it was so warm; since the window of the room where Dupont was sitting was open then, the concierge could hear the tone of the conversation frequently rising during these visits; the last day, the visit ended in a violent quarrel. It was the young man who did most of the shouting, the concierge thinks; this boy seemed very nervous and may have been drinking a little too much-he sometimes went into the Cafe des Allies when he left the professor’s house. Lastly, the day before the murder, he walked along the canal with a friend-much taller and stronger than himself, and certainly older too. They stopped in front of the little house and the student pointed to one of the rooms on the second floor; he was obviously overexcited, he was explaining something to his companion with animation, making threatening gestures.
Although Madame Smite is extremely deaf (and “rather peculiar”) and “seems to be completely ignorant of her employer’s associates,” it is possible that she can give the name of this young man and say what he was doing in the house.
It would be best to question the housekeeper once again; unfortunately she has left the city. In her absence, the inspector has attempted to question the manager of the Cafe des Allies; he points out, by the way, that “members of this profession are generally quite well informed as to the private life of their customers.” The manager had no desire to talk, and it required all the inspector’s patience and diplomacy to get to the bottom of the affair:
Some twenty years ago, Dupont “had relations regularly” with a woman “in modest circumstances” who, subsequently gave birth to a son. The professor, who had “done everything to keep this regrettable event from occurring” (?) and whom the woman attempted to pressure into an alliance, persisted in his refusal to marry her. Finding no other way to bring to an end the “proceedings of which he was the object” he soon afterward married a young girl of his own circle. But the illegitimate child, having grown up, now returned with the intention of obtaining large sums of money, “which provoked stormy arguments whose echoes were heard by the neighbors.”
In his conclusions, the inspector begins by proving that Daniel Dupont himself has, on a number of points, “distorted the truth.”
“The mere examination of the material evidence,” he writes, “proves, without there being any need to bring in the evidence of the witnesses, that:
“First, there were two aggressors, not just one: the man with the small hands (fingerprints number 3) and small feet (tracks on the lawn) who took such short strides, cannot be the one, necessarily tall and strong, who twisted the wire of the electric buzzer at the garden gate; furthermore, if the first man was obliged to walk on the lawn to avoid making the gravel crunch, it is because there was already someone walking beside him, on the brick rim of the path; had he been alone, he would have chosen this wide rim himself.
“Second, at least one of these two men was familiar with the house and not an anonymous malefactor: it is apparent that he was well acquainted with the premises and the household habits.
“Third, he was certainly recognized by the professor; the latter claimed to have been attacked before even having had time to open the door all the way, thereby explaining that he didn’t see his murderer’s face; actually, he went into the study and spoke to the two men: there was even a struggle between them, as is indicated by the disorder of the room (piles of books knocked over, chair moved, etc.) and the fingerprints (number 3) on the paperweight.
“Fourth, the motive of the crime is not theft: someone who knew the house so well would also know that there was nothing to steal in this room.
“Dupont was unwilling to reveal his murderer, for the latter was too closely involved with him. He even concealed as long as possible the seriousness of his wound, hoping that his friend Doctor Juard would take care of him, and that scandal would be avoided. It is for this reason that the housekeeper believed Dupont had only received a ‘flesh wound in the arm? “
And the whole scene is reconstructed. The young man, after having vainly appealed to his rights, to filial love, to pity, and finally to blackmail, determined, as a last resort to attempt force. Since he is a weakling and afraid of his father, he has sought the services of a friend, stronger and older than himself, whom he will introduce as his attorney but who is actually his thug. They have decided to make their visit on Monday, October 26, at seven-thirty in the evening…
Daniel Dupont reaches the study door, his eyes on the floor, his hand already stretched toward the doorknob that he is preparing to turn, when he is suddenly struck by this thought: “Jean is here waiting for me!” The professor stops and holds his breath. Perhaps Jean has not come alone: didn’t he threaten him, the other day, with bringing his “lawyer” with him? Who knows what today’s children are capable of?
Cautiously he turns around and tiptoes into the bedroom to get the revolver he has kept, since the war, in the drawer of his night table. But just as he is slipping off the safety catch, he feels a sudden qualm: he is not going to fire at his own son, after all; it’s only to frighten him.
Back in the hallway, the weight of the revolver in his hand seems unrelated to the fear that ran through him a minute earlier; by comparison this sudden fear vanishes altogether: why should his son have come tonight? Moreover, Dupont is not afraid of him. He puts the gun in his pocket. Starting tomorrow, he will have the house doors locked at nightfall.
He turns the doorknob and opens the study door. Jean is there waiting for him.
He is standing between the chair and the desk. He has been reading the papers there. Another man is standing in front of the bookcase, to one side, his hands in his pockets-obviously a bad type.
“Good evening,” Jean says.
His eyes are bright, both arrogant and apprehensive; he must have been drinking again. His mouth grimaces in a parody of a smile.
“What are you doing here?” Dupont asks coldly.
“I came to talk to you,” Jean says. “That’s (gesture of his chin) Maurice…he’s my attorney (another grimace).”
“Good evening,” Maurice says.
“Who let you in?”
“No one,” Jean says. “I know the house.”
Which means: “I’m a member of the family!”
“Well, you can leave the way you came,” the professor says calmly. “It’s just as easy: you know the way.”
“We’re not leaving just yet,” Jean says; “we came to talk-to talk business.”
“We’ve already exhausted the subject, my boy. Now you’re going to leave.”
Dupont walks toward his son with a determined expression; he sees the boy’s eyes fill with fear…fear and hatred…He repeats:
“You’re going to leave.”
Jean picks up the first thing he finds within his reach: the heavy paperweight with sharp edges. He
