VII. THE CRIMINAL INVESTIGATION DEPARTMENT
"Does M. Gurn live here, please?"
Mme. Doulenques, the concierge at No. 147 rue Levert, looked at theenquirer and saw a tall, dark man with a heavy moustache, wearing a softhat and a tightly buttoned overcoat, the collar of which was turned upto his ears.
"M. Gurn is away, sir," she answered; "he has been away for some littletime."
"I know," said the stranger, "but still I want to go up to his rooms ifyou will kindly go with me."
"You want----" the concierge began in surprise and doubt. "Oh, I know;of course you are the man from the what's-its-name company, come for hisluggage? Wait a bit; what is the name of that company? Somethingfunny--an English name, I fancy."
The woman left the door, which she had been holding just ajar, and wentto the back of her lodge; she looked through the pigeon-holes where shekept the tenants' letters ready sorted, and picked out a soiled printedcircular addressed to M. Gurn. She was busy putting on her spectacleswhen the stranger drew near and from over her shoulder got a glimpse ofthe name for which she was looking. He drew back again noiselessly, andsaid quietly:
"I have come from the South Steamship Company."
"Yes, that's it," said the concierge, laboriously spelling out thewords: "the South--what you said. I can never pronounce those names. Rued'Hauteville, isn't it?"
"That's it," replied the man in the soft hat in pleasant, measuredtones.
"Well, it's very plain that you don't bustle much in your place," theconcierge remarked. "I've been expecting you to come for M. Gurn'sthings for nearly three weeks; he told me you would come a few daysafter he had gone. However, that's your business."
Mme. Doulenques cast a mechanical glance through the window that lookedon to the street, and then surveyed the stranger from top to toe; heseemed to be much too well dressed to be a mere porter.
"But you haven't got any handcart or truck," she exclaimed. "You're notthinking of carrying the trunks on your shoulder, are you? Why, thereare at least three or four of them--and heavy!"
The stranger paused before answering, as though he found it necessary toweigh each word.
"As a matter of fact I merely wanted to get an idea of the size of theluggage," he said quietly. "Will you show me the things?"
"If I must, I must," said the concierge with a heavy sigh. "Come up withme: it's the fifth floor," and as she climbed the stairs she grumbled:"It's a pity you didn't come when I was doing my work: I shouldn't havehad to climb a hundred stairs a second time then; it counts up at theend of the day, and I'm not so young as I was."
The stranger followed her up the stairs, murmuring monosyllabicsympathy, and regulating his pace by hers. Arrived at the fifth floor,the concierge drew a key from her pocket and opened the door of theflat.
It was a small modest place, but quite prettily decorated. The door onthe landing opened into a tiny sort of anteroom, from which one passedinto a front room furnished with little but a round table and a fewarm-chairs. Beyond this was a bedroom, almost filled by the large bed,which was the first thing one saw on entering, and on the right therewas yet another room, probably a little office. Both the first room,which was a kind of general living room, and the bedroom had widewindows overlooking gardens as far as one could see. An advantage of theflat was that it had nothing opposite, so that the occupant could moveabout with the windows open if he liked, and yet have nothing to fearfrom the inquisitiveness of neighbours.
The rooms had been shut up for several days, since the tenant had goneaway indeed, and there was a stuffy smell about them, mingled with astrong smell of chemicals.
"I must air the place," the concierge muttered, "or else M. Gurn won'tbe pleased when he comes back. He always says he is too hot and can'tbreathe in Paris."
"So he does not live here regularly?" said the stranger, scanning theplace curiously as he spoke.
"Oh, no, sir," the concierge answered. "M. Gurn is a kind of commercialtraveller and is often away, sometimes for a month or six weekstogether," and the gossiping woman was beginning a long and incoherentstory when the stranger interrupted her, pointing to a silver-framedphotograph of a young woman he had noticed on the mantelpiece.
"Is that Mme. Gurn?"
"M. Gurn is a bachelor," Mme. Doulenques replied. "I can't fancy himmarried, with his roaming kind of life."
"Just a little friend of his, eh?" said the man in the soft hat, with awink and a meaning smile.
"Oh, no," said the concierge, shaking her head. "That photograph is nota bit like her."
"So you know her, then?"
"I do and I don't. That's to say, when M. Gurn is in Paris, he often hasvisits from a lady in the afternoon: a very fashionable lady, I can tellyou, not the sort that one often sees in this quarter. Why, the womanwho comes is a society lady, I am sure: she always has her veil down andpasses by my lodge ever so fast, and never has any conversation with me;free with her money, too: it's very seldom she does not give mesomething when she comes."
The stranger seemed to find the concierge's communications veryinteresting, but they did not interrupt his mental inventory of theroom.
"In other words, your tenant does not keep too sharp an eye on hismoney?" he suggested.
"No, indeed: the rent is always paid in advance, and sometimes M. Gurneven pays two terms in advance because he says he never can tell if hisbusiness won't be keeping him away when the rent falls due."
Just then a deep voice called up the staircase:
"Concierge: M. Gurn: have you any one of that name in the house?"
"Come up to the fifth floor," the concierge called back to the man. "Iam in his rooms now," and she went back into the flat. "Here's somebodyelse for M. Gurn," she exclaimed.
"Does he have many visitors?" the stranger enquired.
"Hardly any, sir: that's why I'm so surprised."
Two men appeared; their blue blouses and metal-peaked caps proclaimedthem to be porters. The concierge turned to the man in the soft hat.
"I suppose these are your men, come to fetch the trunks?"
The stranger made a slight grimace, seemed to hesitate and finally madeup his mind to remain silent.
Rather surprised to see that the three men did not seem to be acquaintedwith each other, the concierge was about to ask what it meant, when oneof the porters addressed her curtly:
"We've come from the South Steamship Company for four boxes from M.Gurn's place. Are those the ones?" and taking no notice of the visitorin the room, the man pointed to two large trunks and two small boxeswhich were placed in a corner of the room.
"But aren't you three all together?" enquired Mme. Doulenques, visiblyuneasy.
The stranger still remained silent, but the first porter replied atonce.
"No; we have nothing to do with the gentleman. Get on to it, mate! We'veno time to waste!"
Anticipating their action, the concierge got instinctively between theporters and the luggage: so too did the man in the soft hat.
"Pardon," said he politely but peremptorily. "Please take nothingaway."
One of the porters drew a crumpled and dirty memorandum book from hispocket and turned over the pages, wetting his thumb every time. Helooked at it attentively and then spoke.
"There's no mistake: this is where we were told to come," and again hesigned to his mate. "Let's get on with it!"
The concierge was puzzled. She looked first at the mysterious stranger,who was as quiet and silent as ever, and then at the porters, who werebeginning to be irritated by these incomprehensible complications.
Mme. Doulenques' mistrust waxed greater, and she sincerely regrettedbeing alone on the fifth floor with these strangers, for the otheroccupants of this floor had gone off to their daily work long ago.Suddenly she escaped from the room, and called shrilly down the stairs:
"Madame Aurore! Madame Aurore!"
The man in the soft hat rushed after her, seized her gently but firmlyby the arm, and led her back into the room.
/> "I beg you, madame, make no noise: do not call out!" he said in a lowtone. "Everything will be all right. I only ask you not to create adisturbance."
But the concierge was thoroughly alarmed by the really odd behaviour ofall these men, and again screamed at the top of her voice:
"Help! Police!"
The first porter was exasperated.
"It's unfortunate to be taken for thieves," he said with a shrug of hisshoulders. "Look here, Auguste, just run down to the corner of thestreet and bring back a gendarme. The gentleman can explain to theconcierge in his presence, and then we shall be at liberty to get onwith our job."
Auguste hastened to obey, and several tense moments passed, during whichnot a single word was exchanged between the three people who were lefttogether.
Then heavy steps were heard, and Auguste reappeared with a gendarme. Thelatter came swaggering into the room with a would-be majestic air, andsolemnly and pompously enquired:
"Now then, what's all this about?"
At sight of the officer every countenance cleared. The concierge ceasedto tremble; the porter lost his air of suspicion. Both were beginning toexplain to the representative of authority, when the man in the soft hatwaved them aside, stepped up to the guardian of the peace and lookinghim straight in the eyes, said:
"Criminal Investigation Department! Inspector Juve!"
The gendarme, who was quite unprepared for this announcement, steppedback a pace and raised his eyes towards the man who addressed him: thensuddenly raised his hand to his _kepi_ and came to attention.
"Beg pardon, Inspector, I didn't recognise you! M. Juve! And you havebeen in this division a long time too!" He turned angrily to theforemost porter. "Step forward, please, and let's have no nonsense!"
Juve, who had thus disclosed his identity as a detective, smiled, seeingthat the gendarme assumed that the South Steamship Company's porter wasa thief.
"That's all right," he said. "Leave the man alone. He's done no harm."
"Then who am I to arrest?" the puzzled gendarme asked.
The concierge broke in to explain: she had been much impressed by thestyle and title of the stranger.
"If the gentleman had told me where he came from I would certainly neverhave allowed anyone to go for a gendarme."
Inspector Juve smiled.
"If I had told you who I was just now, madame, when you were, quitenaturally, so upset, you would not have believed me. You would havecontinued to call out. Now, I am particularly anxious to avoid anyscandal or noise at the present moment. I rely on your discretion." Heturned to the two porters, who were dumb with amazement and could makenothing of the affair. "As for you, my good fellows, I must ask you toleave your other work and go back at once to your office in the rued'Hauteville and tell your manager--what is his name?"
"M. Wooland," one of the men replied.
"Good: tell M. Wooland that I want to see him here at the earliestpossible moment; and tell him to bring with him all the papers he hasthat refer to M. Gurn. And not a word to anyone about all this, please,especially in this neighbourhood. Take my message to your manager, andthat's all."
* * * * *
The porters had left hurriedly for the rue d'Hauteville and a quarter ofan hour went by. The detective had requested the concierge to ask theMadame Aurore to whom she had previously appealed so loudly for help, totake her place temporarily in the lodge. Juve kept Mme. Doulenquesupstairs with him partly to get information from her, and partly toprevent her from gossiping downstairs.
While he was opening drawers and ransacking furniture, and plunging hishand into presses and cupboards, Juve asked the concierge to describethis tenant of hers, M. Gurn, in whom he appeared to be so deeplyinterested.
"He is a rather fair man," the concierge told him, "medium height, stoutbuild, and clean shaven like an Englishman; there is nothing particularabout him: he is like lots of other people."
This very vague description was hardly satisfactory. The detective toldthe policeman to unscrew the lock on a locked trunk, and gave him asmall screw-driver which he had found in the kitchen. Then he turnedagain to Mme. Doulenques who was standing stiffly against the wall,severely silent.
"You told me that M. Gurn had a lady friend. When used he to see her?"
"Pretty often, when he was in Paris; and always in the afternoon.Sometimes they were together till six or seven o'clock, and once ortwice the lady did not come down before half-past seven."
"Used they to leave the house together?"
"No, sir."
"Did the lady ever stay the night here?"
"Never, sir."
"Yes: evidently a married woman," murmured the detective as if speakingto himself.
Mme. Doulenques made a vague gesture to show her ignorance on the point.
"I can't tell you anything about that, sir."
"Very well," said the detective; "kindly pass me that coat behind you."
The concierge obediently took down a coat from a hook and handed it toJuve who searched it quickly, looked it all over and then found a labelsewn on the inside of the collar: it bore the one word _Pretoria_.
"Good!" said he, in an undertone; "I thought as much."
Then he looked at the buttons; these were stamped on the under side withthe name _Smith_.
The gendarme understood what the detective was about, and he tooexamined the clothes in the first trunk which he had just opened.
"There is nothing to show where these things came from, sir," heremarked. "The name of the maker is not on them."
"That's all right," said Juve. "Open the other trunk."
While the gendarme was busy forcing this second lock Juve went for amoment into the kitchen and came back holding a rather heavy coppermallet with an iron handle, which he had found there. He was looking atthis mallet with some curiosity, balancing and weighing it in his hands,when a sudden exclamation of fright from the gendarme drew his eyes tothe trunk, the lid of which had just been thrown back. Juve did not loseall his professional impassivity, but even he leaped forward like aflash, swept the gendarme to one side, and dropped on his knees besidethe open box. A horrid spectacle met his eyes. For the trunk contained acorpse!
The moment Mme. Doulenques caught sight of the ghastly thing, she fellback into a chair half fainting, and there she remained, unable to move,with her body hunched forward, and haggard eyes fixed upon the corpse,of which she caught occasional glimpses as the movements of Juve and thegendarme every now and then left the shocking thing within the trunkexposed to her view.
Yet there was nothing especially gruesome or repellent about thecorpse. It was the body of a man of about fifty years of age, with apronounced brick-red complexion, and a lofty brow, the height of whichwas increased by premature baldness. Long, fair moustaches drooped fromthe upper lip almost to the top of the chest. The unfortunate creaturewas doubled up in the trunk, with knees bent and head forced down by theweight of the lid. The body was dressed with a certain fastidiousness,and it was obviously that of a man of fashion and distinction; there wasno wound to be seen. The calm, quiet face suggested that the victim hadbeen taken by surprise while in the full vigour of life and killedsuddenly, and had not been subjected to the anguish of a fight for lifeor to any slow agony.
Juve half turned to the concierge.
"When did you see M. Gurn last? Exactly, please: it is important."
Mme. Doulenques babbled something unintelligible and then, as thedetective pressed her, made an effort to collect her scattered wits.
"Three weeks ago at least, sir: yes, three weeks exactly; no one hasbeen here since, I will swear."
Juve made a sign to the gendarme, who understood, and felt the bodycarefully.
"Quite stiff, and hard, sir," he said; "yet there is no smell from it.Perhaps the cold----"
Juve shook his head.
"Even severe cold could not preserve a body in that condition for threeweeks, and it's not cold now, but there is this:" and he showed
hissubordinate a small yellowish stain just at the opening of the collar,close to the Adam's apple, which, in spite of the comparative thinnessof the body, was very much developed.
Juve took the corpse under the arm-pits and raised it gently, wishing toexamine it closely, but anxious, also, not to alter its position. On thenape of the neck was a large stain of blood, like a black wen and as bigas a five-shilling piece, just above the last vertebra of the spinalcolumn.
"That's the explanation," the detective murmured, and carefullyreplacing the body he continued his investigation. With quick, cleverhands he searched the coat pockets and found the watch in its properplace. Another pocket was full of money, chiefly small change, with afew louis. But Juve looked in vain for the pocket-book which the man haddoubtless been in the habit of carrying about with him: the pocket-bookprobably containing some means of identification.
The inspector merely grunted, got up, began pacing the room, andquestioned the concierge.
"Did M. Gurn have a motor-car?"
"No, sir," she replied, looking surprised. "Why do you ask?"
"Oh, for no particular reason," said the inspector with affectedindifference, but at the same time he was contemplating a large nickelpump that lay on a what-not, a syringe holding perhaps half a pint, likethose that chauffeurs use. He looked at it steadfastly for severalminutes. His next question was addressed to the gendarme who was stillon his knees by the trunk.
"We have found one yellow stain on the neck; you will very likely findsome more. Have a look at the wrists and the calves of the legs and thestomach. But do it carefully, so as not to disturb the body." While thegendarme began to obey his chief's order, carefully undoing the clothingon the corpse, Juve looked at the concierge again.
"Who did the work of this flat?"
"I did, sir."
Juve pointed to the velvet curtain that screened the door between thelittle anteroom and the room in which they were.
"How did you come to leave that curtain unhooked at the top, withoutputting it to rights?"
Mme. Doulenques looked at it.
"It's the first time I've seen it like that," she said apologetically;"the curtain could not have been unhooked when I did the room lastwithout my noticing it. Anyhow, it hasn't been like that long. I oughtto say that as M. Gurn was seldom here I didn't do the place outthoroughly very often."
"When did you do it out last?"
"Quite a month ago."
"That is to say M. Gurn went away a week after you last cleaned theplace up?"
"Yes, sir."
Juve changed the subject, and pointed to the corpse.
"Tell me, madame, did you know that person?"
The concierge fought down her nervousness and for the first time lookedat the unfortunate victim with a steady gaze.
"I have never seen him before," she said, with a little shudder.
"And so, when that gentleman came up here, you did not notice him?" saidthe inspector gently.
"No, I did not notice him," she declared, and then went on as ifanswering some question which occurred to her own mind. "And I wonder Ididn't, for people very seldom enquired for M. Gurn; of course when thelady was with him M. Gurn was not at home to anybody. This--this deadman must have come straight up himself."
Juve nodded, and was about to continue his questioning when the bellrang.
"Open the door," said Juve to the concierge, and he followed her to theentrance of the flat, partly fearing to find some intruder there, partlyhoping to see some unexpected person whose arrival might throw a littlelight upon the situation.
At the opened door Juve saw a young man of about twenty-five, an obviousEnglishman with clear eyes and close-cropped hair. With an accent thatfurther made his British origin unmistakable, the visitor introducedhimself:
"I am Mr. Wooland, manager of the Paris branch of the South SteamshipCompany. It seems that I am wanted at M. Gurn's flat on the fifth floorof this house, by desire of the police."
Juve came forward.
"I am much obliged to you for putting yourself to this inconvenience,sir: allow me to introduce myself: M. Juve, an Inspector from theCriminal Investigation Department. Please come in."
Solemn and impassive, Mr. Wooland entered the room; a side glancesuddenly showed him the open trunk and the dead body, but not a muscleof his face moved. Mr. Wooland came of a good stock, and had all thatadmirable self-possession which is the strength of the powerfulAnglo-Saxon race. He looked at the inspector in somewhat haughtysilence, waiting for him to begin.
"Will you kindly let me know, sir, the instructions your firm had withregard to the forwarding of the baggage which you sent for to this flatof M. Gurn's this morning?"
"Four days ago, Inspector," said the young man, "on the 14th of Decemberto be precise, the London mail brought us a letter in which LordBeltham, who had been a client of ours for several years, instructed usto collect, on the 17th of December, that is, to-day, four articlesmarked H. W. K., 1, 2, 3 and 4, from M. Gurn's apartments, 147 rueLevert. He informed us that the concierge had orders to allow us to takethem away."
"To what address were you to despatch them?"
"Our client instructed us to forward the trunks by the first steamer toJohannesburg, where he would send for them; we were to send two invoiceswith the goods as usual; the third invoice was to be sent to London, Box63, Charing Cross Post Office."
Juve made a note of Box 63, Charing Cross in his pocket-book.
"Addressed to what name or initials?"
"Simply Beltham."
"Good. There are no other documents relating to the matter?"
"No, I have nothing else," said Mr. Wooland.
The young fellow relapsed into his usual impassive silence. Juve watchedhim for a minute or two and then said:
"You must have heard the various rumours current in Paris three weeksago, sir, about Lord Beltham. He was a very well-known personage insociety. Suddenly he disappeared; his wife left nothing undone to givethe matter the widest publicity. Were you not rather surprised when youreceived a letter from Lord Beltham four days ago?"
Mr. Wooland was not disconcerted by the rather embarrassing question.
"Of course I had heard of Lord Beltham's disappearance, but it was notfor me to form any official opinion about it. I am a business man, sir,not a detective. Lord Beltham might have disappeared voluntarily or thereverse: I was not asked to say which. When I got his letter I simplydecided to carry out the orders it contained. I should do the same againin similar circumstances."
"Are you satisfied that the order was sent by Lord Beltham?"
"I have already told you, sir, that Lord Beltham had been a client ofours for several years; we have had many similar dealings with him. Thislast order which we received from him appeared to be entirely abovesuspicion: identical in form and in terms with the previous letters wehad had from him." He took a letter out of his pocket-book, and handedit to Juve. "Here is the order, sir; if you think proper you can compareit with similar documents filed in our office in the rue d'Hauteville";and as Juve was silent, Mr. Wooland, with the utmost dignity, enquired:"Is there any further occasion for me to remain here?"
"Thank you, sir, no," Juve replied. Mr. Wooland made an almostimperceptible bow and was on the point of withdrawing when the detectivestayed him once more. "M. Wooland, did you know Lord Beltham?"
"No, sir: Lord Beltham always sent us his orders by letter; once ortwice he has spoken to us over the telephone, but he never came to ouroffice, and I have never been to his house."
"Thank you very much," said Juve, and with a bow Mr. Wooland withdrew.
* * * * *
With meticulous care Juve replaced every article which he had movedduring his investigations. He carefully shut the lid of the trunk, thushiding the unhappy corpse from the curious eyes of the gendarme and thestill terrified Mme. Doulenques. Then he leisurely buttoned his overcoatand spoke to the gendarme.
"Stay here until I send a man to rel
ieve you; I am going to yoursuperintendent now." At the door he called the concierge. "Will youkindly go down before me, madame? Return to your lodge, and please donot say a word about what has happened to anyone whatever."
"You can trust me, sir," the worthy creature murmured, and Juve walkedslowly away from the house with head bowed in thought.
There could be no doubt about it: the body in the trunk was that of LordBeltham! Juve knew the Englishman quite well. But who was the murderer?
"Everything points to Gurn," Juve thought, "and yet would an ordinarymurderer have dared to commit such a crime as this? Am I letting myimagination run away with me again? I don't know: but it seems to methat about this murder, committed in the very middle of Paris, in acrowded house where yet nobody heard or suspected anything, there is anaudacity, a certainty of impunity, and above all a multiplicity ofprecautions, that are typical of the Fantomas manner!" He clenched hisfists and an evil smile curled his lips as he repeated, like a threat,the name of that terrible and most mysterious criminal, of whose hellishinfluence he seemed to be conscious yet once again. "Fantomas! Fantomas!Did Fantomas really commit this murder? And if he did, shall I eversucceed in throwing light upon this new mystery, and learning the secretof that tragic room?"