Like a flash La Touche saw. It had gone from the Gare du Nord to Dupierre’s. He looked up his chronology of the case. Yes a cask had been received by Dupierre on that Thursday evening, but they had believed it had come from Boirac’s house. And then the whole diabolical plot began dimly to appear, as La Touche endeavoured to picture the scene which had probably taken place.
Boirac, he conjectured, must have discovered his wife has eloped with Felix. Mad with jealousy and hatred he kills her. Then, cooling down somewhat, he finds himself with the body on his hands. What is he to do with it? He thinks of the cask standing in the study. He sees that a better receptacle for getting the body out of the house could hardly be devised. He therefore unpacks the statue and puts in the body. The question then arises, where is he to send it? A horrible idea occurs to him. He will wreak his vengeance on Felix by sending it to him. And then a second idea strikes him. If he could arrange that the police would find the body in Felix’s possession, would the artist not then be suspected and perhaps executed? Truly a ghastly vengeance! Boirac then types the Le Gautier letter, and sends it to Felix with the idea of making the artist act in so suspicious a way that the police will interfere and find him with the body.
So far La Touche felt his surmises had a ring of probability, but he was still puzzled about the second cask. But, as he turned the matter over in his mind, he gradually began to see light here too.
Boirac had received a cask from Dupierre with his statue. But as it had gone to Felix he had no empty cask to send back in its place to the sculptors. He must return them an empty cask, or else suspicion falls on him at once. Where is he to get it?
And then La Touche saw that the whole business of the second cask must have been arranged simply to meet this difficulty. Boirac must have ordered it, forging Felix’s handwriting. La Touche recollected that order was written on the same paper as the Le Gautier letter, suggesting a common origin for both. Boirac met it in London, took it to the shed, there removed and destroyed the statue, and had the cask returned to Paris. At the Gare du Nord he doubtless changed the labels, so that when it reached Dupierre’s it bore that with the address of his own house. The other label he must have altered from the Waterloo route to that of long sea. This would account for Dubois’s statement that Boirac had changed the labels when he met him in the rue de La Fayette, as well as for the curious faking of that described by the clerk Broughton.
The more La Touche pondered over this theory, the more satisfied he became that he had at last reached the truth. But he had to admit that even yet there were several points he could not understand. When did the murder take place, and where? Did Madame really elope with Felix, and, if so, did her husband bring her back alive or dead? How did the impression of the letter ordering the second statue come to be on Felix’s blotting paper? If Madame was murdered in Paris, how did the jewelled pin reach St. Malo?
But in spite of these and other difficulties, La Touche was more than pleased with his progress, and, as very late he went to his bedroom, he felt a short investigation should be sufficient to test his theory, as well as to clear up all that still remained doubtful.
XXIX
A Dramatic Dénouement
Three days after the finding of the carter, Dubois, and La Touche’s discovery of what he believed was the true solution of the mystery, he received a letter which interested him considerably. It came by post to his hotel, and was as follows—
“Rue St. Jean 1,
“Avenue De L’Alma
“.“Dear Monsieur—In connection with your calls here and inquiries into the death of my late mistress, I have just by accident hit on a piece of information which I am sure would be of value to you. It explains the closing of the front door which, you will recollect, I heard about 1:00 a.m. on the night of the dinner party. I think it will have the effect of entirely clearing your client, though I am afraid it does not point to anyone else as the murderer. M. Boirac is dining out tonight and most of the servants are attending the marriage festivities of one of the housemaids; the house is therefore unprotected, and I cannot leave it to call on you, but if you could see your way to call here any time during the evening, I shall tell you what I have learnt.
“Extraordinary,” thought La Touche, “how, when you get some information about a case, more nearly always comes in. Here I worked for ages on this case without getting any forrader, and François made no discoveries to encourage me. Now, when I have almost solved it and it no longer matters, he comes forward with his help. I suppose it’s the inverse of misfortunes never coming singly.”
He looked at his watch. It was just five o’clock. M. Boirac might not leave home till nearly eight. If he went a few minutes past that hour he could see François and hear his news.
He wondered what the butler could have discovered. If it really did what he claimed—explained the closing of the front door, that would necessarily clear up much that was still doubtful about the events of that tragic night.
Suddenly an idea flashed into his mind. Was the letter genuine? He had never seen the butler’s handwriting, and therefore could form no opinion from
