The Blackmailers: Dossier No. 113. Richard Dalby
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Название: The Blackmailers: Dossier No. 113
Автор: Richard Dalby
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Полицейские детективы
isbn: 9780008137526
isbn:
‘Oh,’ M. Patrigent said, ‘it is not always possible to wait.’
After a few moments’ thought, Prosper said:
‘A detail has just come into my mind which may assist me. When the messenger brought the money from the bank, I was ready to leave, and I am sure I locked up the banknotes in his presence.’
‘He shall be examined,’ M. Patrigent said. ‘You will be taken back to your cell.’
As soon as Prosper had gone, the magistrate turned to the clerk and said:
‘Was not a medical certificate received to excuse the messenger Antonin’s attendance? Where does he live?’
‘Sir,’ Sigault replied, ‘he is at present in the Dubois Hospital.’
‘Ah, well, I will go and examine him today. Send for a carriage.’
On reaching the hospital and finding the man well enough to be examined, M. Patrigent and his clerk went to his bedside.
When the messenger had answered the usual questions and said that he was Antonin Poche, that he was forty years old, was born at Cadaujac and a single man, the magistrate said:
‘Are you well enough to answer my questions?’
‘Quite, sir.’
‘Did you go to the bank on February 27 to withdraw the 350,000 francs which were stolen?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘What time did you return?’
‘Rather late; it must have been five o’clock when I got back.’
‘Do you remember what M. Bertomy did when you gave him the money? Now, think carefully.’
‘First he counted the notes and made them up into four packets which he put in the safe, then locked the safe, yes, and I am quite sure of it, and went out.’
‘Are you quite sure of what you are saying?’ asked the magistrate.
The solemn tone of M. Patrigent frightened him.
‘Sure,’ he replied with marked hesitation, ‘I would wager my head upon it.’
He would say no more for fear of being compromised, and it would not have taken much to make him withdraw his statement altogether.
As the magistrate went out he said to his clerk:
‘It is becoming very serious.’
THE Grand-Archange Hôtel, the refuge of Madame Gypsy, is the finest on the Quai Saint-Michel.
Madame Alexandré, the proprietress, once a beautiful woman, had become too big, though her eyes were still bright and her teeth white, but alas her nose was red.
She adored her husband, and just when M. Patrigent was leaving the Hospital she was waiting dinner for him.
Fanferlot himself appeared. They had met three years before, when she employed him as a private inquiry agent. They got married and with their joint savings took and furnished the Grand-Archange Hôtel, where they prospered and were esteemed. Fanferlot’s employment in the detective service was kept a secret.
‘How late you are,’ she said as she kissed him.
‘I am worn out,’ he said; ‘I have been playing billiards all day with Evariste, M. Fauvel’s valet, and he won as often as he liked; he is a fellow who has no knowledge of anything but billiards. I made his acquaintance the day before yesterday and now I am his best friend. I am sure of his support if I apply for Antonin’s berth as messenger.’
‘What, you a messenger!’
‘Yes, I must take the position to make inquiries there.’
‘Did not the valet tell you anything?’
‘Nothing of much use. The banker is a saint. He has no vices. He does not drink, gamble or keep a mistress. He is enormously rich and lives frugally. He loves his wife and children; he often has visitors but rarely goes out.’
‘How old is his wife?’
‘About fifty.’
‘Have you found out,’ Madame Alexandré asked, ‘about the other members of the family?’
‘Oh, yes. The younger son is an officer somewhere. The elder, Lucien, lives with his parents and is a model of virtue. I have found out nothing about the wife or the niece.’
‘Do you know what I would do if I were in your place?’
‘No.’
‘I would consult M. Lecoq.’
The name made Fanferlot jump.
‘That is fine advice,’ he said. ‘I should lose my position if he even suspected what I was doing.’
‘I mean, ask his advice in an offhand way.’
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