great interest in all these police questions and had often amused himself by going closely into different cases with the chief of the detective-service, whose good qualities and independent character he valued highly. He sent for the prefect and the attorney-general to see him in his room, talked to them and then sent for M. Lenormand.
“Yes, my dear Lenormand, it’s about the Kesselbach case. But, before we discuss it, I must call your attention to a point which more particularly affects and, I may say, annoys Monsieur le Préfet de Police. M. Delaume, will you explain to M. Lenormand …?
“Oh, M. Lenormand knows quite well how the matter stands,” said the prefect, in a tone which showed but little good-will toward his subordinate. “We have talked it over already and I have told him what I thought of his improper conduct at the Palace Hotel. People are generally indignant.”
M. Lenormand rose, took a paper from his pocket and laid it on the table.
“What is this?” asked Valenglay.
“My resignation, Monsieur le Président du Conseil.”
Valenglay gave a jump:
“What! Your resignation! For a well-meaning remark which Monsieur le Préfet thinks fit to address to you and to which, for that matter, he attaches no importance whatever—do you, Delaume? No importance whatever—and there you go, taking offence! You must confess, my dear Lenormand, that you’re devilish touchy! Come, put that bit of paper back in your pocket and let’s talk seriously.”
The chief detective sat down again, and Valenglay, silencing the prefect, who made no attempt to conceal his dissatisfaction, said:
“In two words, Lenormand, the thing is that Lupin’s reappearance upon the scene annoys us. The brute has defied us long enough. It used to be funny, I confess, and I, for my part, was the first to laugh at it. But it’s no longer a question of that. It’s a question of murder now. We could stand Lupin, as long as he amused the gallery. But, when he takes to killing people, no!”
“Then what is it that you ask, Monsieur le Président?”
“What we ask? Oh, it’s quite simple! First, his arrest and then his head!”
“I can promise you his arrest, some day or another, but not his head.”
“What! If he’s arrested, it means trial for murder, a verdict of guilty, and the scaffold.”
“No!”
“And why not?”
“Because Lupin has not committed murder.”
“Eh? Why, you’re mad, Lenormand! The corpses at the Palace Hotel are so many inventions, I suppose! And the three murders were never committed!”
“Yes, but not by Lupin.”
The chief spoke these words very steadily, with impressive calmness and conviction. The attorney and the prefect protested.
“I presume, Lenormand,” said Valenglay, “that you do not put forward that theory without serious reasons?”
“It is not a theory.”
“What proof have you?”
“There are two, to begin with, two proofs of a moral nature, which I at once placed before Monsieur le Juge d’Instruction and which the newspapers have laid stress upon. First and foremost, Lupin does not kill people. Next, why should he have killed anybody, seeing that the object which he set out to achieve, the theft, was accomplished and that he had nothing to fear from an adversary who was gagged and bound?”
“Very well. But the facts?”
“Facts are worth nothing against reason and logic; and, moreover, the facts also are on my side. What would be the meaning of Lupin’s presence in the room in which the cigarette-case was discovered? On the other hand, the black clothes which were found and which evidently belonged to the murderer are not in the least of a size to fit Lupin.”
“You know him, then, do you?”
“I? No. But Edwards saw him, Gourel saw him; and the man whom they saw is not the man whom the chambermaid saw, on the servants’ staircase, dragging Chapman by the hand.”
“Then your idea …”
“You mean to say, the truth, M. le Président. Here it
“Yes, my dear Lenormand, it’s about the Kesselbach case. But, before we discuss it, I must call your attention to a point which more particularly affects and, I may say, annoys Monsieur le Préfet de Police. M. Delaume, will you explain to M. Lenormand …?
“Oh, M. Lenormand knows quite well how the matter stands,” said the prefect, in a tone which showed but little good-will toward his subordinate. “We have talked it over already and I have told him what I thought of his improper conduct at the Palace Hotel. People are generally indignant.”
M. Lenormand rose, took a paper from his pocket and laid it on the table.
“What is this?” asked Valenglay.
“My resignation, Monsieur le Président du Conseil.”
Valenglay gave a jump:
“What! Your resignation! For a well-meaning remark which Monsieur le Préfet thinks fit to address to you and to which, for that matter, he attaches no importance whatever—do you, Delaume? No importance whatever—and there you go, taking offence! You must confess, my dear Lenormand, that you’re devilish touchy! Come, put that bit of paper back in your pocket and let’s talk seriously.”
The chief detective sat down again, and Valenglay, silencing the prefect, who made no attempt to conceal his dissatisfaction, said:
“In two words, Lenormand, the thing is that Lupin’s reappearance upon the scene annoys us. The brute has defied us long enough. It used to be funny, I confess, and I, for my part, was the first to laugh at it. But it’s no longer a question of that. It’s a question of murder now. We could stand Lupin, as long as he amused the gallery. But, when he takes to killing people, no!”
“Then what is it that you ask, Monsieur le Président?”
“What we ask? Oh, it’s quite simple! First, his arrest and then his head!”
“I can promise you his arrest, some day or another, but not his head.”
“What! If he’s arrested, it means trial for murder, a verdict of guilty, and the scaffold.”
“No!”
“And why not?”
“Because Lupin has not committed murder.”
“Eh? Why, you’re mad, Lenormand! The corpses at the Palace Hotel are so many inventions, I suppose! And the three murders were never committed!”
“Yes, but not by Lupin.”
The chief spoke these words very steadily, with impressive calmness and conviction. The attorney and the prefect protested.
“I presume, Lenormand,” said Valenglay, “that you do not put forward that theory without serious reasons?”
“It is not a theory.”
“What proof have you?”
“There are two, to begin with, two proofs of a moral nature, which I at once placed before Monsieur le Juge d’Instruction and which the newspapers have laid stress upon. First and foremost, Lupin does not kill people. Next, why should he have killed anybody, seeing that the object which he set out to achieve, the theft, was accomplished and that he had nothing to fear from an adversary who was gagged and bound?”
“Very well. But the facts?”
“Facts are worth nothing against reason and logic; and, moreover, the facts also are on my side. What would be the meaning of Lupin’s presence in the room in which the cigarette-case was discovered? On the other hand, the black clothes which were found and which evidently belonged to the murderer are not in the least of a size to fit Lupin.”
“You know him, then, do you?”
“I? No. But Edwards saw him, Gourel saw him; and the man whom they saw is not the man whom the chambermaid saw, on the servants’ staircase, dragging Chapman by the hand.”
“Then your idea …”
“You mean to say, the truth, M. le Président. Here it
Similar Books
