The essence of the gossip could be summarised as follows: the violinist returned home at five o’clock the previous evening. Half-an-hour later, a neighbour, seeing the door open, had taken a look. Completely by chance, you know... Heavens above! The body was there, still warm, covered in blood. Screams, general panic... Nobody had seen anything or heard anything.
Meanwhile, the culpability of the murderer of Nancy, Dijon and Rennes was never in doubt. The bullet, when extracted, had been identified.
Fighting a losing battle, and with empty stomachs, the journalists went to Chez Pascal, on the banks of the Vieux-Port. They could not fail, after the obligatory pastis, to order bouillabaisse. Even Hyacinthe, despite his condescending air.
Then the horde dispersed, planning to reunite at eight o’clock on the train to Paris. Jacques and Maryse were walking along La Canebière together when they ran into the professor. Beard in the air, he was headed towards the port, oblivious of everyone.
‘Well, well, uncle, where are you going in such a hurry? Are you pressed for time?’
‘Dammit. That imbecile of a medical examiner made me miss my morning’s work. I had to be present at the autopsy. What a stiff! Absolutely nothing abnormal. As solid as a rock. It’s enough to make you weep.’
‘No traces of excess? No vices?’
‘All I can tell you is that he didn’t drink too much and ate reasonably. As for the rest, modern science hasn’t found the yardstick (if that’s the word) for amorous performance. I dare say, on that point, he was no slacker. Apart from that, no drugs.’
‘Have you noticed,’ observed Jacques, ‘that all the victims are bachelors? Or, at least, single men. What conclusion can you draw?’
‘I can see several. But which one to choose?’
‘Another thing. In Nancy, Dijon and Rennes, the man in grey showed himself to the neighbours. But here, on the contrary, he carefully hid himself. Doesn’t that suggest anything?’
‘What are you saying?’
‘Maybe here he ran the risk of being recognised if someone saw him?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘It’s an idea that just occurred to me, and I’m happy it doesn’t seem to appear altogether stupid to you. Also, on reflection, I shall not be leaving tonight. I’m staying to see if I can pick up the trail.’
Jacques said his farewells and strode away. Maryse turned to her uncle with a laugh. He observed:
‘He’s just like a girl, love has given him spirit. You’ve opened his eyes to horizons he hadn’t hoped to attain.’
‘If I’d only known.’
She became thoughtful. Her uncle looked at her out of the corner of his eye with some amusement.
Notes: In the late nineteenth century and early twentieth century, trends in xenotransplantation—the process of grafting or transplanting organs or tissues between members of different species—included the work of Charles-Édouard Brown-Séquard. In 1889, Brown-Séquard injected himself under the skin with extracts from ground-up dog and guinea pig testicles. These experiments failed to produce the desired results of increased hormonal effects to retard aging.
Voronoff'’s experiments launched from this starting point. He believed glandular transplants would produce more sustained effects than mere injections. His early experiments in this field included transplanting thyroid glands from chimpanzees to humans with thyroid deficiencies. He moved on to transplanting the testicles of executed criminals into millionaires, but, when demand outstripped supply, he turned to using monkey testicle tissue instead.
Cesare Lombroso's theory of anthropological criminology used concepts drawn from physiognomy, degeneration theory, psychiatry and Social Darwinism, to assert that criminality was inherited, and that someone "born criminal" could be identified by physical (congenital) defects, which confirmed a criminal as savage or atavistic.
Dr. Edmond Locard was a pioneer in forensic science who became known as the Sherlock Holmes of France. Locard's principle holds that the perpetrator of a crime will bring something into the crime scene and leave with something from it, and that both can be used as forensic evidence.
IV
PROFESSOR RICHARD TAKES CHARGE
Friday, November 19
On that Friday, the 19th, the same thing happened to Professor Richard as had happened to Jacques several days before. Returning from Marseille at six o’clock in the morning, he had gone to bed straight away. At nine o’clock he was sleeping soundly, his goatee carefully arranged on the white sheet. He was breathing calmly.
The telephone rang. It is at such moments that one appreciates the achievements of modern science. Regretfully, Richard extended an arm towards the apparatus, perched on a small shelf above him on the headboard. It was the cabinet secretary to the Président du Conseil, conveying the latter’s wish to see him at half-past-ten that same morning. He was particularly insistent as to the importance the latter attached to the meeting.
Richard agreed unenthusiastically. Uncharacteristically, he had the patience to replace the apparatus before belching out a word. Only one. We will let you guess what it was. Then, having called his house-keeper for breakfast, he went into his bathroom. It’s fair to say that the professor did not treat his body in the same casual manner he treated his clothes.
He had lived for twenty years in Rue Cassini, between the Faubourg Saint-Jacques and the Avenue de l’Observatoire. The residence was more like a country house. Fenced in completely from the right by a garden relatively well maintained by a day labourer, the house was, for the most part, a simple ground floor. Upstairs there were only two bedrooms and a bathroom. Below, it was mainly a laboratory, forbidden to all but the professor. He locked himself in all day long, lost in his research.
At the time he moved in, he had been a recent widower, and his son had been fifteen years old. Together, they had established a comfortable and hard-working life. The housekeeper, Mme. Dille, had always served them.
