A Murder is Arranged (13 page)

“In accordance with your instructions I saw M. Verneuil on the subject of an interview with the Marquis de Crémont. I cannot speak too highly of the co-operation of the French police. M. Verneuil used his telephone and my interview was arranged with the governor of the prison, who undertook to allow it to take place in a special room with armchairs and a warm fire. One of M. Verneuil's officers accompanied me to the prison and introduced me to the governor, who was obviously anxious to meet me in every way. He told me that the Marquis de Crémont was one of his most troublesome prisoners. ‘In what way?' I asked him. ‘Is he violent or disorderly?' ‘No, worse than that,' he replied; ‘he gives himself airs and never tires of demanding special privileges in accordance with his rank.' He said that this kind of prisoner was far more troublesome to the governor than the violent blackguard, because he was always scrupulously polite in his insistence and could not be dealt with for any breach of discipline. With this light upon his character I felt prepared to conduct the interview.

“The marquis proved to be one of those elegant, slim young men with perfect manners, a soft voice and a seductive way with him which would account for his success among women—particularly foreign ladies, who would be impressed by his manners and his long eyelashes. He would have had no difficulty, either, in impressing a person like Mr Forge. He approached the fire, rubbing his hands, explaining with a smile, ‘The central heating at this hotel leaves much to be desired. I am going to make representations to its manager that if he wishes to attract guests he must really see to the heating.'

“I caught an exclamation of contempt from M. Verneuil's officer, who was in the room with us, but this in no way discountenanced the prisoner, who went on, ‘I understand that you wish to see me, monsieur. I am always glad to be of service to gentlemen from the other side of the Channel: it fosters the
entente cordiale
.'

“With a man like this I adopted the sudden method of springing information upon him. ‘You were acquainted, I think, with a lady named Margaret Gask. I have called to tell you that she is dead.' I expected some sign of perturbation from him, but I am sure I am not mistaken when I say that his expression was one of relief—the kind of relief that a criminal would feel when he heard of the death of a confederate who might round on him at some future time. His first impulse was to ask, ‘Did she leave any papers?' but he tried to correct his slip by assuming an air of regret. ‘I am very sorry to hear that, although I did not know her at all well.'

“‘And yet,' I said, ‘she counted you among her friends, together with others such as Mr Huskisson, Mr Graves, Mr Oborn and Mr Forge.' I watched his face as I mentioned these names and observed that he winced at the mention of each name. ‘But they were all her fellow countrymen, whereas I was but a foreign acquaintance. I can't tell you anything about her.'

“‘There is one thing that you can tell me about—that uncut emerald that you sold to Mr Forge,' I said.

“‘Ah,' he sighed, ‘that calls up sad memories; it was an heirloom in my family.'

“‘You were introduced to Mr Forge by Mr Huskisson. Did Mr Huskisson suggest to you that Mr Forge would be a likely purchaser, or was it Miss Gask who suggested that?'

“He hesitated before replying and then he said, ‘I think it was Miss Gask.'

“I asked him how he had come to know Mr Huskisson and he said that Miss Gask had introduced him. He could not, or perhaps would not, tell me anything more about his association with Huskisson, whom he represented as merely a casual acquaintance. When I asked him for his reason for getting Huskisson to introduce him to Mr Forge he said with apparent frankness that he had understood that Forge was a wealthy man and he himself was in pressing need of money and was therefore compelled to dispose of his heirlooms to the highest bidder. He denied all knowledge of either Oborn or Graves, but his denial was so emphatic that I felt sure he was lying.

“On my return to M. Verneuil I was handed a letter from M. Goron, asking me to go and see him on a matter which might prove to be important to both of us. Accordingly I went direct to his office and was at once admitted. He quite overwhelmed me with his welcome. He said that he wished to place before me the facts of the murder case on which he was then engaged—the murder of the senator, M. Salmond. The following is a brief outline of what he told me.

“M. Salmond was a man of between fifty and sixty. He had taken a very prominent part in the recent disorders in the Chamber, always in the interests of the Right, who correspond roughly with our conservative party. Like other French public men, he had been deluged with abusive and threatening letters from his opponents, but he had never been assaulted in the Chamber or in the street and, as far as could be ascertained, had no private enemy. On November seventh he was found dead in the sitting room of his flat, which opened on to the main staircase: he had been shot through the head, the bullet striking him square in the forehead and traversing the brain. Search of the flat showed no sign of robbery; suicide was ruled out by the medical evidence and the police at first came to the conclusion that the assassin had been a person with some private grudge against him. With his will, however, there was a letter to his nephew, who was the principal heir. This letter stated that in the old Brittany cupboard in his sitting room a sum of five hundred thousand francs would be found between the newspaper lining and the shelf: he gave directions where the key would be found. On investigation this cupboard was found to be unlocked; it had been very cleverly forced: not a single franc note was found. This proved that the motive for the murder had been robbery.

“Without going into details M. Goron assured me that the persons who would have had access to the flat, including the deceased's nephew, had all been cleared of any suspicion. The notes were impossible to trace, as no numbers were known; they represented the hoardings of years. The flat had not been broken into; obviously the dead man had opened the door himself to the intruder. M. Goron produced for my inspection a number of voluminous reports from his staff to show me how thoroughly he had covered the ground. All tended to show that no stone had been left unturned in the question of the persons who could have known that the murdered man had this hoard of money concealed in his flat and where it was hidden: the result had led to no discovery. It was not positively known even to his relations that he had this money; it was merely conjecture among them, but it was a conjecture that squared with what they knew of his character. Some passing suspicion rested upon a certain Mme Fleuri who had for years been his intimate friend, but in the opinion of M. Goron she had been entirely cleared of suspicion. If she had been in want of money she could have had financial help from him to any extent without resorting to murder to obtain it. In a case of this kind the motive would not have been robbery, but jealousy of some other woman, and there was nothing to show that there was sufficient excuse for murder in any
affaire
in which the deceased had been concerned. In the course of M. Goron's investigations Mme Fleuri had admitted that for a time the murdered man had abandoned his habit of visiting her and this had occasioned a certain coolness in their relations, but he had since disarmed all suspicion that there was another woman in the case by resuming his former regularity.

“I suggested to M. Goron that the temporary break in the relations of these two persons might have been due to some other infatuation on the part of the man and asked him whether the result of his investigations supported this view. He replied that they had received information from a source not wholly trustworthy that M. Salmond had been seen dining with an attractive lady, who was a foreigner. The waiter who had volunteered this information was one of those people who were always ready to come forward with information if it seemed likely to please the person who was making the enquiry. M. Goron then came to the point which explained why he had sent for me. The wardrobe door which had been forced open had been wedged with a folded scrap of newspaper which had since proved to have been torn from the Paris edition of the
Daily Mail
. The fact that it was printed in English did not at first seem important, as all the drawers were lined with sheets from English newspapers and the concierge had explained that she obtained these newspapers from one of the flats upstairs, occupied at that time by English people; she preferred English newspapers because the ink did not set off and stain white linen as French newspapers do when used as linings to drawers. M. Goron had preserved the little scrap and on thinking the case over it had suddenly occurred to him that this wedge, if the issue of the newspaper could be identified, might afford a valuable clue. Accordingly his wife, who speaks and reads English, set herself the task. It gave no indication of date and therefore the undertaking was a formidable one. However, after some very painstaking work she was able to prove that it had been torn from the issue of the date of the murder. The newspapers lining the drawers were all three months older.

“M. Goron explained that he had now formed the theory that the waiter had spoken the truth: that M. Salmond had made the acquaintance of a beautiful Englishwoman and had taken her out to dinner, probably several times, and had betrayed, perhaps involuntarily, the secret of his private hoard.

“I asked him whether he thought that this woman had committed the murder; he said that it was more likely that the actual murderer had been a man but that she had furnished him with the information about the money and that he had used her name to gain admission to the flat. M. Goron went on to elaborate his theory, produced apparently from his inner consciousness and resting upon no evidence, that the murderer of M. Salmond and Miss Gask had been one and the same person. When I confessed that I could see no connection between the two he was surprised. ‘It leaps to the eye,' he said. ‘Surely you cannot have missed the point? Miss Gask betrayed the hiding place of Monsieur Salmond's money to a man; this man came to steal the money and shot Salmond; then because Miss Gask knew too much he followed her to England and killed her.'

“He then asked me about the people who were staying at Scudamore Hall on the night of the murder and we discussed the possible guilt of each one. He had a disconcerting way of ticking off each person on his fingers as if he were checking an inventory. Finally he said, ‘Listen, my friend; my next task will be to ascertain in detail the movements of your Mr Huskisson when he was in Paris.' When I disclosed to him that Huskisson had introduced the Marquis de Crémont to Mr Forge in order to induce him to buy a stolen emerald he left his seat in his excitement. ‘There, my friend,' he exclaimed as he walked rapidly up and down the room, ‘there you have it. Crémont—a rascal—consorting with Huskisson, also a rascal and Miss Gask's closest friend. What more do you want?' At that moment the telephone bell rang and he was called away. In shaking hands he asked me to come in again the next day.

“A. D
ALLAS
,
Detective Inspector
.”