‘Okay. We’ll be back in ten minutes with solids and liquids.’
Richard had recommenced his halting walk, whilst Jannin conferred with the examining magistrate in a low voice. After a while, he said:
‘I like to flatter myself I’m observant and I’m pretty sure that, right at this moment, Jannin and you are regretting not having the services of Bob Slowman.’
‘That’s right, and I compliment you on your subtlety, my dear professor. You could have made a fortune as asoothsayer.’
‘I doubt I would have made a fortune in any career. In any case, I agree it would be desirable if Slowman were involved. Do you think he would accept?’
‘Would he? He’s dying to get involved. We talked about it again yesterday.’
‘Good. I need him. I’ve hesitated up until now, out of self-respect and false shame, but I can’t do it any more. He has to start as soon as possible. I haven’t the right to waste time. Slowman is who I was missing: a prodigious intuition, a kind of extra sense which allows him to quickly reach a conclusion that I can only arrive at after fastidious and methodical effort. I, on the other hand, can help with my experience and the entire police organisation. Together, we’ll solve it. To hell with prestige.’
The magistrate and the superintendent looked in surprise at the old man, who now appeared to them under a different light. There was a silence.
‘I’ll phone him,’ said Jannin.
‘Time to eat!’ cried Maryse as she came through the door. ‘You get your forks out, and we’ll get our pens.’
XI
THE CONTEST BEGINS
Friday, December 3—5 o’clock
Ouf! Here we are at the end of our efforts. It’s time to hand over the narrative to Charles Termine, Bob Slowman’s companion and biographer. We do it with pleasure but, before we put our Toledo pen into its secret drawer, let us clarify that the foregoing chapters were merely a compilation of accounts told to us by the interested parties, in particular Professor Richard, his niece, and Jacques Vital. We modestly decline any ownership. (The Editors)
__________________________________________________
On that Friday, December 3rd, at around half-past-three, Boband I were in our office in Rue Louis-le-Grand. We were hard at work, each with a bulky dossier, when the telephone rang.
After he had hung up, Bob put his dossier aside, stood up, and hastily put on his hat and overcoat. I looked at him questioningly.
‘It’s the man in grey’s eleventh murder. In Villemomble. Jannin’s leading the investigation and Delharbe has been named examining magistrate. They’ve obtained Professor Richard’s authorisation to hire me. I’d better hurry. If I don’t see you tonight, I’ll fill in the details tomorrow.’
‘Oh, no you don’t! I’m coming with you. I’ve been hoping for this for weeks: Bob versus the man in grey. I’m not going to miss it. If you don’t take me with you, I’ll find my own way there.’
At four o’clock, we drew up in front of Chauvin’s villa. Richard, whom I only knew by reputation, seemed to conform to the descriptions I’d heard. His niece made a strong impression on me (Sh! Not a word to Emily), as well as l’Hérisse (hum!).
We listened to the explanations provided by Jannin. Richard slipped in the occasional comment. My friend asked for a few clarifications, then set to work.
As he finished his examination in the boudoir, he found a worker, who had been called in by Jannin, repairing the counterweight system.
He learnt that the villa had belonged to a diamond dealer. The boudoir had been used as a fortified storeroom whose protection, in addition to a safe containing thousands of stones, was provided by a security door and a window whose panes had been replaced by steel plates. Chauvin had sold the door and replaced the plates with toughened glass. The electric motor for raising the frame had also been sold.
My friend stepped out onto the stone slab in front of the window, which was now accessible, and examined it carefully.
Then he called in the housekeeper and asked her a few questions. She affirmed that nobody had entered the house the day before. But, by pushing her hard, Bob managed to get more out of her:
‘Nobody? No one from a utility company, for example?’
‘Ah!’
‘Ah?’
‘Oh, I completely forgot about him. A gas inspector came to check the meter.’
The meter was in the basement and the man had been down there alone. Worse still, he had asked to use the toilet and had been out of the good lady’s sight for several minutes. By contrast, she was certain of the time he left. Description? As expected.
Jannin confirmed by telephone that no gas inspector had been in the area that day.
Bob smiled. He waited until the woman had left before addressing Jannin:
‘Look for a man at least one metre ninety-five tall and very strong. He’s Russian and you’ll probably find his body on waste land.’
We looked at him in stupefaction.
‘It’s perfectly simple: either the murderer was inside when the front door was closed, or he got in afterwards. We can take it as practically certain that he wasn’t hidden inside the house. Chauvin wasn’t born yesterday. The precautions he took prove it. He was able to protect himself as long as he was outdoors and he forced the enemy to come to his home. He thought he was safe inside. He carefully checked out the whole house. If the bandit had been there, the crime would have taken place at seven o’clock and not midnight. Therefore, the man came during the night. No getting in through the doors and eleven of the twelve windows. What about the twelfth? Did the salesman check that it closed properly? I doubt it. He knows that nobody has opened it for months, and he thinks it can’t be opened. He takes
