‘Perfect. Until tomorrow, then.’
The next day, Monday, January 17th, the phone rang at twenty-to-eleven. Bob literally bounded towards the apparatus, and I picked up the earpiece.
‘Hello, Bob? It’s Maryse.’
‘Well, good morning. What’s up?’
‘I want to tell you something important.’
‘Better tell me quickly. In twenty minutes, there a press conference at the Hôtel de Matignon . I’d love to have something new to report.’
‘I can’t tell you over the phone. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Wait for me.’
‘Impossible. The conference is at eleven o’clock. Meet me there.’
‘I’m not invited. And, besides, I haven’t any proof yet. Just an idea I would like to discuss with you and get your advice.’
‘Very well. Can it wait until the afternoon? Where and when can I see you?’
‘It’s just that....’ There was a moment’s silence. ‘Will my uncle be there?’
‘Of course. He must already be on his way.’
‘Will it last a long time?’
‘With all those blowhards, it’ll be two hours at least, maybe two-and-a-half. And it’ll all be hot air. Do you want to have lunch afterwards?’
‘I... I don’t know. No, don’t worry about me. Maybe I’ll join you there, or maybe I’ll phone again.’
‘Maryse, is Jacques aware of your projects?’
‘I haven’t any projects, and in any case, nobody’s aware. Goodbye, Bob.’
‘Wait. Promise me one thing: don’t do anything by yourself. There’s no danger if you stay home. Wait until the afternoon. We’ll work together. It’s too dangerous, Maryse.’
‘Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be careful.’
And she hung up without waiting for more pleas from my friend.
There was a large crowd in the antechamber of the main conference room. All the journalists were there, gesticulating and holding forth, happy for the godsend, mentally preparing fascinating articles for the morrow. They stopped every new arrival in their quest for more information.
As we arrived, Professor Richard was in a debate with an agitated group. His foul mood had not dissipated. He responded to questions with acerbic witticisms and almost hurtful remarks. Jacques was there. He hastened towards us:
‘Have you any news of Maryse?’
‘She phoned me just before we left. Just between the two of us, you shouldn’t have lost sight of her. I’m worried that, left alone, she might do something stupid.’
‘Where is she?’
‘She wouldn’t tell me.’
Jannin arrived, and I couldn’t help noticing he was leaning on a cane. He was limping noticeably.
‘An attack of sciatica,’ he explained. ‘I haven’t slept a wink. And I can’t stay in one place. Sitting or lying down are equally painful. The best is to keep moving.’
Present at the conference were: the Président du Conseil; the Ministre de l’Intérieure, the Ministre de la Justice, their heads of cabinet, the Chef de la Sûreté and the Directeur de la Police Judiciaire; M. Delharbe (and his beard), Richard, Jannin, Bob and I. Plus two secretaries. We were all seated around a long table except Jannin, who had received authorisation to move about.
After a few minutes of chatting, Bernès began to speak:
‘I’ve invited you all to be here for this slightly irregular conference because the unprecedented situation in which we find ourselves demands exceptional measures. You have all followed the investigation, step by step, which dispenses with the need for a historical recap. But, to clarify all the subsequent discussion, I need to take up the question again.’
There followed a lengthy and insipid report, after which he handed the proceedings over to Richard.
The professor stood up, his beard dishevelled:
‘I repeat,’ he declared, ‘that we’ve heard enough idle chatter for today. We’re not the electorate, and it’s not by mouthing hollow banalities that we will beat the man in grey. Neither is it by condemning those who have had the unenviable responsibility of following the case that the denouement will be brought any closer. Particularly since you are not being fair to those with the thankless mission of building a trail with the nothings that the super-criminal has left. They have slaved day and night to amass a mountain of unconnected material, from which they have extracted tiny clues. Others have made great leaps of imagination to find common themes out of disparate elements.’
After a lengthy pause, the criminologist continued, in a sombre voice:
‘And what have I done? How have I contributed to this investigation other than by sarcastic and useless remarks? My name is there in all the papers, and I’m ashamed.
‘Or, rather, I was ashamed until these last few days, for now I believe I’m in a position to bring you important information which could advance the case significantly.’
There was a collective ‘Aha!’ of anticipation, myself included. Only Bob, a knowing smile on his lips, nodded his head as if he’d expected this revelation. Richard continued, cutting off any interruption:
‘I have thought a great deal since the beginning of this affair. I’m not the only one but, recently, I have come to believe it was not a complete waste of time. It’s true that I came across some of the fundamental elements by chance. I started by asking myself what was the significance of twoof them: the frescos and the colour-blindness. I’m sure you’ve already understood for quite a long time.’
The ashamed expression on the face of the Président and some of the other officials brought a smile to the professor’s face. I found myself blushing, because I hadn’t understood at all.
‘Colour-blindness is not at all what many people think. Ask those who have heard of it what it is, and they vast majority will say that it means seeing red as green, and green as red. That’s idiotic because, if that were the case, no one would ever know! Colour-blind people—or daltonians, as they are sometimes called—are partially or totally blind to certain colours. There are, in fact, several types of colour-blindness: achromatopsia for those who cannot see any colour;
