# The Cask/Chapter 28
### CHAPTER XXVIII THE UNRAVELLING OF THE WEB

When La Touche solved the problem of how Boirac had faked his alibi, his first impression was that his work was done. But, as had happened so often before, second thoughts showed him that this was hardly the case. Though he had established Boirac’s guilt to his own satisfaction, he doubted if he could prove it in court, and, indeed, the whole matter was still far from clear.
He felt that if he could only find the carter who had brought the cask to the rue Cardinet he would reach certainty on at least some of the points which were puzzling him. He therefore decided to concentrate once more on this problem.
Since the sending out of his circular to the managers of the various carting establishments in the city, he had interviewed no less than twenty-seven more or less clean-shaven, white-haired, and sharp-featured carters. But all to no purpose. The man he wanted was not among them. And as answers to practically all his circulars had been received, he had reluctantly come to the conclusion his plan had failed.
That evening, when Mallet called to make his customary report on Boirac’s doings, the two men discussed the matter, and it was a remark dropped by his assistant that turned La Touche’s thoughts to a point he had previously overlooked.
“Why do you think he was employed by a cartage contractor?” Mallet had asked, and La Touche had been going to reply with some asperity that cartage contractors were not uncommonly found to employ carters, when the pertinence of the other’s question struck him. Why, indeed? Of the thousands of carters in Paris, only a small proportion were employed by cartage firms. By far the greater number worked for specific businesses. Might not the man who brought the cask to the goods station belong to this class, and if so, might not this account for the failure of the original advertisements? If a carter were bribed to use his employer’s vehicle for his own gain he would not afterwards give the fact away. And to La Touche it seemed that such a move would be just what might be expected from a man of Boirac’s mentality.
But if this theory were correct; if the carter had thus been bound over to silence, how was the man to be discovered and the truth wrung from him?
La Touche smoked two cigars over this problem, and then it occurred to him that the method he had already adopted was sound as far as it went. It merely did not go far enough.
The only way in which he could ensure finding his hypothetical carter would be to send a circular to every employer in Paris. But that was too large an order.
That night, he discussed the matter with the two porters, whom he found intelligent men and keenly interested in the inquiry. He made them describe the kind of cart the cask was brought in, then with a directory he marked off the trades in which the employment of such a vehicle was likely. When he had finished, though some thousands of names were included, he did not think the number overwhelming.
For a considerable time he pondered the question of advertising his circular in the press. At last he decided he could not do so, as if Boirac saw it he would doubtless take precautions to prevent the truth becoming known. La Touche therefore returned to the office of the Business Supplies Company and instructed them to send his circular to each of the thousands of employers in the selected trades, they tabulating the replies and giving him the summary. Though he was by no means sanguine of the success of this move, he felt it offered a chance.
For the next three evenings La Touche and the porters had a busy time. White-haired carters turned up at the Hôtel d’Arles literally in dozens, till the management threatened an ejectment and talked of a claim for fresh carpets. But all was fruitless. The man they wanted did not appear.
On the third day, amongst other letters sent on from the Business Supplies Company, was one which immediately interested La Touche.
“In reply to your circular letter of the 18th inst.,” wrote Messrs. Corot, Fils, of the rue de Rivoli, “we have a man in our employment who, at the end of March, answered your description. His name is Jean Dubois, of 18b rue de Falaise, near Les Halles. About that time, however, he ceased shaving and has now grown a beard and moustache. We have asked him to call with you.”
Was it, thought La Touche, merely a coincidence that this clean-shaven carter should begin to grow a beard immediately after the delivery of the cask? When two more days passed and the man did not turn up, La Touche determined to call on him.
Accordingly the next evening he arranged for Mallet and one of the porters to deal with the men at the Hôtel d’Arles, while he himself in company with the other set out to find Dubois. The rue de Falaise turned out to be a narrow, dirty street of high, sombre buildings, with the word slum writ large across their grimy frontages. At 18b, La Touche ascended and knocked at a ramshackle door on a dark stone landing. It was opened by a slatternly woman, who stood, silently waiting for him to speak, in the gloom of the threshold. La Touche addressed her with his usual suavity.
“Good-evening, madame. Is this where M. Jean Dubois of Messrs. Corot, Fils lives?”
The woman signified assent, but without inviting her visitor in.
“I have a little job for him. Could I see him, please?”
“He’s not in, monsieur.”
“That’s unfortunate for me and for him too, I fancy. Can you tell me where I should find him?”
The woman shrugged her shoulders.
“I cannot tell, monsieur.” She spoke in a dull, toneless way, as if the struggle for existence had sapped away all her interest in life.
La Touche took out a five-franc piece and pushed it into her hand.
“You get hold of him for me,” he said, “I want this little job done and he could do it. It’ll get him into no trouble, and I’ll pay him well.”
The woman hesitated. Then, after a few seconds, she said:—
“If I tell you where he is, will you give me away?”
“No, on my honour. We shall have found him by accident.”
“Come this way, then, monsieur.”
She led them down the stairs and out again into the dingy street. Passing along it like a furtive shadow she turned twice, then halted at the corner of a third street.
“Down there, monsieur,” she pointed. “You see that café with the coloured glass windows? He’ll be in there,” and without waiting for an acknowledgment she slipped away, vanishing silently into the gloom.
The two men pushed open the café door and entered a fairly large room dotted with small marble tables, with a bar in one corner and a dancing stage at the back. Seating themselves unostentatiously at a table near the door they called for drinks.
There were some fifteen or twenty men and a few women in the place, some reading the papers, some playing dominoes, but most lounging in groups and talking. As La Touche’s keen eye ran over the faces, he soon spotted his man.
“Is that he, Charcot?” he asked, pointing to a small, unhealthy looking fellow, with a short, untidy, white beard and moustache.
The porter looked cautiously. Then he assented eagerly.
“It’s the man, monsieur, I believe. The beard changes him a bit, but I’m nearly sure it’s he.”
The suspect was one of those on the outskirts of a group, to whom a stout, fussy man with a large nose was holding forth on some socialistic subject. La Touche crossed over and touched the white-haired man on the arm.
“M. Jean Dubois?”
The man started and an expression of fear came into his eyes. But he answered civilly enough.
“Yes, monsieur. But I don’t know you.”
“My name is La Touche. I want a word or two with you. Will you have a drink with me and my friend here?”
He indicated the porter, Charcot, and they moved over. The fear had left Dubois’s eyes, but he still looked uneasy. In silence they sat down.
“Now Dubois, what will you take?”
When the carter’s wants were supplied, La Touche bent towards him and began speaking in a low tone:—
“I dare say, Dubois, you already guess what I want, and I wish to say before anything else that you have nothing to fear if you are straight with me. On the contrary, I will give you one hundred francs if you answer my questions truly. If not—well, I am connected with the police, and we’ll become better acquainted.”
Dubois moved uneasily as he stammered:—
“I don’t know what you mean, monsieur.”
“So that there shall be no mistake, I shall tell you. I want to know who it was engaged you to take the cask to the rue Cardinet goods station.”
La Touche, who was watching the other intently, saw him start, while his face paled and the look of fear returned to his eyes. It was evident he understood the question. That involuntary motion had given him away.
“I assure you, monsieur, I don’t know what you mean. What cask are you referring to?”
La Touche bent closer.
“Tell me, do you know what was in that cask? No? Well, I’ll tell you. There was a body in it—the body of a woman—a murdered woman. Did you not guess that from the papers? Did you not realise that the cask you carried to the station was the one that all the papers have been full of? Now, do you want to be arrested as an accessory after the fact in a murder case?”
The man was ghastly, and beads of perspiration stood on his forehead. In a trembling voice he began again to protest his ignorance. La Touche cut him short.
“Chut, man! You needn’t keep it up. Your part in the thing is known, and if it wasn’t you would soon give it away. Dubois, you haven’t red enough blood for this kind of thing! Be guided by me. Make a clean breast of it, and I’ll give you the hundred francs, and, what’s more, I’ll do my best to help you out of your trouble with your employers. If you don’t, you’ll have to come along now to the Sûreté. Make up your mind quickly what you’re going to do.”
The man, evidently panic stricken, remained silent. La Touche took out his watch.
“I’ll give you five minutes,” he said, and, leaning back in his chair, he lit a cigar.
Before the time was up the man spoke.
“If I tell you everything will you not arrest me?” His fright was pitiable.
“Certainly not. I don’t want to do you any harm. If you give me the information you go free with a hundred francs in your pocket. But if you try to deceive me, you can explain your position to-morrow to the examining magistrate.”
The bluff had its effect.
“I’ll tell you, monsieur. I’ll tell you the whole truth.”
“Good,” said La Touche, “then we had better move to a more private place. We’ll go to my hotel, and you, Charcot”—he turned to the porter—“get away back to the rue de Lyon and tell M. Mallet and your friend the man’s found. Here’s what I owe you and a trifle more.”
Charcot bowed and vanished, while La Touche and the carter, getting out into one of the larger streets, drove to the rue de la Fayette.
“Now, Dubois,” said the detective, when they were seated in his room.
“I’m going to tell you the gospel truth, monsieur,” began the carter, and from his earnest, anxious manner La Touche believed him. “And I’m not going to deny that I was in the wrong, even if I do get the sack over it. But I was fair tempted, and I thought it was an easy way to earn a bit of money without doing any one any harm. For that’s the fact, monsieur. What I did, did no harm to any one.
“It was on Monday, monsieur, Monday the 29th March, that I was out at Charenton delivering goods for Messrs. Corot. I stopped at a café there for a glass of beer. While I was drinking it a man came up to me and asked was that my cart? I said I was in charge of it, but it belonged to Messrs. Corot. ‘I want a little job done with a cart,’ he says, ‘and it’s not convenient for me to go into Paris to an agent’s, and if you would save me the trouble by doing it for me I’ll pay you well.’ ‘I couldn’t do that, monsieur,’ I says, ‘for if my employers got to know they’d give me the sack.’ ‘But how would they know?’ he asks, ‘I wouldn’t tell them, and I guess you wouldn’t either.’ Well, monsieur, we talked on, and first I refused, but afterwards I agreed to do it. I admit I was using the cart like that, but he tempted me. He said it would only take about an hour, and he would give me ten francs. So I agreed.”
“What was this man like?”
“He was a middle-sized man, monsieur, with a black pointed beard, and very well dressed.”
“And what did he want you to do?”
“On the next Thursday afternoon at half-past four I was to go to an address he gave me and load up a cask, and bring it to the corner of the rue de la Fayette, close to the Gare du Nord. He said he would meet me there and tell me where to take it.”
“And did he?”
“Yes. I got there first and waited about ten minutes, and then he came up. He took the old label off the cask and nailed on another he had with him. Then he told me to take the cask to the State Railway Goods Station in the rue Cardinet and book it to London. He gave me the freight as well as the ten francs for myself. He said he should know if the cask did not get to London, and threatened that if I played any tricks he would inform Messrs. Corot what I had done.”
This statement was not at all what La Touche had expected, and he was considerably puzzled.
“What was the address he gave you at which you were to get the cask?”
“I forget the exact address. It was from a large corner house in the Avenue de l’Alma.”
“What?” roared La Touche, springing excitedly to his feet. “The Avenue de l’Alma, do you say?” He laughed aloud.
So this was it! The cask that went to St. Katherine’s Docks—the cask containing the body—had gone, not from the Gare du Nord, but direct from Boirac’s house! Fool that he was not to have thought of this! Light was at last dawning. Boirac had killed his wife—killed her in her own house—and had there packed her body in the cask, sending it direct to Felix. At long last La Touche had got the evidence he wanted, evidence that would clear Felix—evidence that would bring Boirac to the scaffold!
He was thrilled with his discovery. For a moment the whole affair seemed clear, but once again second thoughts showed him there was a good deal still to be explained. However, once he had got rid of this Dubois, he would see just where he stood.
He questioned the carter exhaustively, but without gaining much further information. That the man had no idea of the identity of his seducer was clear. The only name he had got hold of was that of Dupierre, for Boirac had instructed him to say at his house that he had called for Messrs. Dupierre’s cask. Asked if he had not seen the advertisements of rewards for the information he had now given, the man said he had, but that he was afraid to come forward. First he feared he would lose his job if the matter came to his employer’s ears, and then the very fact that so large a reward was offered had frightened him, as he assumed he had unwittingly helped with some crime. He had suspected the matter was one of robbery until he saw of the discovery of the cask in the papers. Then he had at once guessed that he had assisted a murderer to dispose of his victim’s body, and he had lived in a veritable nightmare lest his share in the business should be discovered. Failing to get anything further out of him, La Touche finally dismissed him somewhat contemptuously with his hundred francs. Then he settled himself to try and puzzle out his problem.
And first as to the movements of the cask. It had started from Boirac’s house; how did it get there? Clearly from Dupierre’s. It must have been the cask in which Boirac’s statue had been sent home. That cask, then, left Dupierre’s on the Saturday of the dinner party, reaching Boirac’s house the same day. It lay there until the following Thursday. During that time the statue was taken out and the body substituted. The cask then travelled to London, was taken by Felix to St. Malo, and finally got into the hands of the police at Scotland Yard.
But then, what about the cask which was met at Waterloo and sent back from London to the Gare du Nord?
This, La Touche saw, must have been a different cask, and there must therefore have been two moving about, and not one as they had believed. He tried to follow the movements of this second cask. It left Dupierre’s on the Tuesday evening, reached Waterloo on the following morning and on next day, Thursday, was sent back to Paris, reaching the Gare du Nord at 4.45 p.m. It had always been assumed this cask went from there to the rue Cardinet Goods Station. This was now proved to have been an error. Where, then, did it go?
Like a flash La Touche saw. It had gone from the Gare du Nord to Dupierre’s. He looked up his chronology of the case. Yes, a cask had been received by Dupierre on that Thursday evening, but they had believed it had come from Boirac’s house. And then the whole diabolical plot began dimly to appear, as La Touche endeavoured to picture the scene which had probably taken place.
Boirac, he conjectured, must have discovered his wife has eloped with Felix. Mad with jealousy and hatred he kills her. Then, cooling down somewhat, he finds himself with the body on his hands. What is he to do with it? He thinks of the cask standing in the study. He sees that a better receptacle for getting the body out of the house could hardly be devised. He therefore unpacks the statue and puts in the body. The question then arises, where is he to send it? A horrible idea occurs to him. He will wreak his vengeance on Felix by sending it to him. And then a second idea strikes him. If he could arrange that the police would find the body in Felix’s possession, would the artist not then be suspected and perhaps executed? Truly a ghastly vengeance! Boirac then types the Le Gautier letter, and sends it to Felix with the idea of making the artist act in so suspicious a way that the police will interfere and find him with the body.
So far La Touche felt his surmises had a ring of probability, but he was still puzzled about the second cask. But, as he turned the matter over in his mind, he gradually began to see light here too.
Boirac had received a cask from Dupierre with his statue. But as it had gone to Felix he had no empty cask to send back in its place to the sculptors. He must return them an empty cask, or else suspicion falls on him at once. Where is he to get it?
And then La Touche saw that the whole business of the second cask must have been arranged simply to meet this difficulty. Boirac must have ordered it, forging Felix’s handwriting. La Touche recollected that order was written on the same paper as the Le Gautier letter, suggesting a common origin for both. Boirac met it in London, took it to the shed, there removed and destroyed the statue, and had the cask returned to Paris. At the Gare du Nord he doubtless changed the labels, so that when it reached Dupierre’s it bore that with the address of his own house. The other label he must have altered from the Waterloo route to that of long sea. This would account for Dubois’s statement that Boirac had changed the labels when he met him in the rue de La Fayette, as well as for the curious faking of that described by the clerk Broughton.
The more La Touche pondered over this theory, the more satisfied he became that he had at last reached the truth. But he had to admit that even yet there were several points he could not understand. When did the murder take place, and where? Did Madame really elope with Felix, and, if so, did her husband bring her back alive or dead? How did the impression of the letter ordering the second statue come to be on Felix’s blotting paper? If Madame was murdered in Paris, how did the jewelled pin reach St. Malo?
But in spite of these and other difficulties, La Touche was more than pleased with his progress, and, as very late he went to his bedroom, he felt a short investigation should be sufficient to test his theory, as well as to clear up all that still remained doubtful.