The Cask Freeman Wills Crofts (great reads TXT) 📖

recollect M. Henri Briant and M. Henri Boisson. I think there were others, but I cannot recall who they were.”

“Was a M. Daubigny one of them?”

“You are right. I had forgotten him. He was there.”

“And M. Jaques Rôget?”

“I’m not sure.” M. Le Gautier hesitated again. “I think so, but I’m not really sure.”

“Can you let me have the addresses of these gentlemen?”

“Some of them. M. Dumarchez lives five doors from me in the rue de Vallorbes. M. Briant lives near the end of the rue Washington, where it turns into the Champs Élysées. The other addresses I cannot tell you offhand, but I can help you to find them in a directory.”

“Many thanks. Now, please excuse me for going back a moment. You gave me to understand you did not write to M. Felix on the subject of the lottery?”

“Yes, I said so, I think, quite clearly.”

“But M. Felix states the very opposite. He says he received a letter from you, dated Thursday, 1st April, that is this day week.”

M. Le Gautier stared.

“What’s that you say? He says he heard from me? There must be a mistake there, monsieur, for I did not write to him.”

“But he showed me the letter.”

“Impossible, monsieur. He could not have shown you what did not exist. Whatever letter he may have shown you was not from me. I should like to see it. Have you got it there?”

For answer Lefarge held out the sheet which Felix had given to Burnley during their midnight conversation at the villa of St. Malo. As M. Le Gautier read it the look of wonder on his expressive face deepened.

“Extraordinary!” he cried, “but here is a mystery! I never wrote, or sent, or had any knowledge of such a letter. It’s not only a forgery, but it’s a pure invention. There’s not a word of truth in that story of the bet and the cask from beginning to end. Tell me something more about it. Where did you get it?”

“From M. Felix himself. He gave it to Mr. Burnley here, saying it was from you.”

“But, good heavens!” the young man sprang to his feet and began pacing up and down the room, “I can’t understand that. Felix is a decent fellow, and he wouldn’t say it was from me if he didn’t believe it. But how could he believe it? The thing is absurd.” He paused and then continued. “You say, monsieur, that Felix said this note was from me. But what made him think so? There’s not a scrap of writing about it. It isn’t even signed. He must have known anyone could write a letter and type my name below it. And then, how could he suppose that I should write such a tissue of falsehoods.”

“But that is just the difficulty,” returned Lefarge. “It’s not so false as you seem to imagine. The description of the conversation about the lottery and your arrangement with Felix to purchase bonds is, by your own admission, true.”

“Yes, that part is, but the rest, all that about a bet and a cask, is wholly false.”

“But there I fear you are mistaken also, monsieur. The part about the cask is apparently true. At least the cask arrived, addressed as described, and on the day mentioned.”

Again the young merchant gave an exclamation of astonishment.

“The cask arrived?” he cried. “Then there really was a cask?” He paused again. “Well, I cannot understand it, but I can only repeat that I never wrote that letter, nor have I the slightest idea of what it is all about.”

“It is, of course, obvious, monsieur, as you point out, that anyone could have typed a letter ending with your name. But you will admit it is equally obvious that only a person who knew of your entering the lottery could have written it. You tell us you are not that person, and we fully accept your statement. Who else then, M. Le Gautier, had this information?”

“As far as that goes, anyone who was present at the discussion at the Toisson d’Or.”

“Quite so. Hence you will see the importance of my questions as to who these were.”

M. Le Gautier paced slowly up and down the room, evidently thinking deeply.

“I don’t know that I do,” he said at last. “Suppose everything in that letter was true. Suppose, for argument’s sake, I had written it. What then? What business of the police is it? I can’t see that the law has been broken.”

Lefarge smiled.

“That ought to be clear enough, anyway. Look at the facts. A cask arrives in London by the I. and C. boat from Rouen, labelled to a man named Felix at the certain address. Inquiries show that no one of that name lives at that address. Further, the cask is labelled ‘Statuary,’ but examination shows that it does not contain statuary, but money, sovereigns. Then a man representing himself as Felix appears, states he lives at the false address, which is untrue, says he is expecting by that boat a cask of statuary, which is also untrue, and claims the one in question. The steamer people, being naturally suspicious, will not give it up, but by a trick Felix gets hold of it, and takes it to quite another address. When questioned by the police he produces this letter to account for his actions. I do not think it surprising that we are anxious to learn who wrote the letter, and if its contents are true.”

“No, no, of course it is reasonable. I did not understand the sequence of events. All the same, it is the most extraordinary business I ever heard of.”

“It is strange, certainly. Tell me, M. Le Gautier, have you ever had any disagreement with Mr. Felix? Can you imagine him having, or thinking he had, any cause of offence against you?”

“Nothing of the kind.”

“You never gave him cause, however innocently, to feel jealousy?”

“Never. But why do you ask?”

“I was wondering whether he might not have played a trick on you, and have written the letter himself.”

“No, no. I’m sure it’s not that. Felix is a very straight, decent fellow. He