‘And you worked all that out?’ asked the Président admiringly.
‘No. All I knew when I walked in here is that the professor had killed Gregor at Noisy-le-Sec. And, if he hadn’t talked so much, I would probably never have found out about the rest. But he loves to talk. And, this time, he has said too much. His insistence in bringing in the death of his son seemed suspicious to me. Not that he didn’t play the role perfectly. On the contrary. But he seemed to be wallowing in it, as if it were something very difficult to pull off, and he was happy to have succeeded. And I suddenly said to myself: what if this is him, the son? Superficially, it didn’t make any sense, it was based on nothing. But then I start to wallow in it myself. Immediately, a host of details came to mind. Many were in favour of the hypothesis, and none were against. I thought about Maryse’s phone call; I thought that, like us, she had seen the killer during the attempt against Duroyer. If she had recognised her cousin, her emotion became understandable. Her life was in danger. She asked me if her uncle was part of the conference. At first I had thought that, not wanting to tell me what she had discovered, she wished to talk to the professor. But now I realised that, on the contrary, she wanted to be sure that he would be kept away from Rue Cassini so that she could search the premises in peace. A terrible thought occurred to me: Doctor Richard was too crafty not to have foreseen such a danger and be ready for it. I was sure he would have set a trap. I couldn’t go, and neither could Jannin. We had a role to play here. Then I thought of Jacques. You know the rest.’
‘Since when, in your opinion, has André been playing the role of his father? Has he been fooling us all along?’
‘No. This is the first time. I don’t think I’m mistaken in saying that the real professor is dead or very ill. Someone had to take his place here, and his son, a remarkableactor, decided to take the risk. You need to send someone to Rue Cassini, Jannin. Make sure they look upstairs.’
XIX
JACQUES VITAL’S CONCLUSION
Thursday, January 20
As soon as it was possible, we hastened to the clinic where Professor Richard had been taken. He was in a coma and died at eight o’clock that night, without regaining consciousness. The autopsy was performed immediately. It showed that the death was completely natural: a stroke complicated by high levels of uremia. The medicine found next to his body was what an excellent doctor like André Richard would have prescribed, even though he would have had no doubt about the outcome.
As for Bob, he was so depressed that, on the pretext of urgent business, he climbed into his car and left to pass two days in the provinces. He only returned on January 20th in the morning and we only saw him at lunch, half-an-hour later than the rendezvous he himself had fixed.
The whole team that had followed us during our ordeal, longer and more challenging than the Tour de France, was there: “little” Saint-Bois, the flouncing Hyacinthe, Jannin, Delharbe and his beard, Vital, Maryse, Bob, and your humble servant. By common assent, the topic of interest was avoided during the meal. It was only after the coffee and liqueurs were served that we allowed ourselves to bask in the euphoriaand start the debate or, more accurately, Bob’s monologue.
Before he began, he circulated a very stylish gold cigarette case which I had never seen before, saying:
‘I don’t know whether you like them. They’ve come directly from Cairo by diplomatic bag.’
After the case had been returned to him, I noticed that only three cigarettes remained. Bob took one and put the case back in his pocket, then lit it with Jannin’s lighter and leant back:
‘Frankly, I haven’t distinguished myself throughout this whole business. In fact, I was beaten.’
He dismissed our protests with a gesture.
‘But yes, I know what I’m talking about. It’s true that the murderer is finally behind bars, but I only found him by chance, like a mediocre billiards player scoring a point through an in-off. Have you considered that, if Richard had not decided to attend the conference, and had instead used his father’s illness—which we could easily verify—as a reason not to be there, he would have escaped indefinitely? It’s true I laid a trap following the return of the folder containing the astronomer’s report, but there was no guarantee that he would fall into it. He was so good that he would doubtless have found a way to play us again. The victory is not due to the effectiveness of my method, but the insufferable arrogance of the bandit. Those whom the gods seek to destroy....’
‘To what do you attribute that pointless... performance?’
‘Pointless is not entirely accurate. Richard still needed two or three days to receive the letter from Cairo. But, above all, he succumbed to the giddy sensation of success a criminal feels after he’s escaped justice for a while. He had decided that his father could no longer play his role. The professor’s illness must have changed his plans. It was so simple. But he was at the stage where simplicity was not enough, and he craved new sensations.
