by John Hall
‘We can, perhaps, do a little better than that,’ and Dubuque passed me his silver flask.
‘Cognac! Excellent!’ I took a long pull, and handed the flask back to Dubuque, who regarded it with some sadness. ‘Some people criticise me for prescribing brandy so freely, you know,’ I told him.
‘Ridiculous!’
‘Absurd! I wonder – ’
‘Of course!’ He passed the flask back to me, and I drained it. ‘I shall, of course, refill it for you at the earliest opportunity,’ I assured him. ‘Now, you were telling me that you came here looking for Holmes?’
‘It is true.’ Dubuque coughed, embarrassed. ‘In connection with the jewel theft, you understand?’
‘Jewel theft?’ The blow on the head had caused me to forget the events of the day for a moment. ‘Ah, yes. That can all be explained, of course. It was part of the plan.’
‘Indeed?’
‘Yes. Holmes will explain it all – ’ then, as my head began to clear, I suddenly realized the significance of what Dubuque had said. ‘Good Lord, Dubuque! Have you not found Holmes, then? And the villains?’
Dubuque shook his head. ‘I shall explain. The jeweller in the Place Vendôme – he found a gendarme – a real gendarme, bien entendu, not a fake – and made a complaint. Monsieur Holmes, he is identified – why, he even left his card!’
‘That can all be explained – ’
‘Assuredly! But the examining magistrate – you understand – and then Monsieur Holmes was here under my aegis, so to speak, acting with my knowledge and my assistance, after all – well, it is awkward, mon ami, there is no doubt of that. So I look for Monsieur Holmes at the pension, but no, he is not there. Then I ask my man – I have had a man watching this place, you understand – and he says yes, Monsieur Holmes and the good Doctor, they have gone in, and not come out. But my man speaks also of a great crowd of men he cannot recognize – they enter in the early afternoon, then Monsieur Holmes and Doctor Watson also enter, then the other men come out, very cheerful – ’
‘Very cheerful?’
‘Well, to speak plainly, a little drunk, you understand! Some are singing, some staggering – one poor fellow has passed out, and the others are obliged to carry him!’
‘The villains!’ I cried. ‘That was poor Holmes! They have drugged him, or knocked him unconscious, and that is how they got him out!’
‘I did not know that, of course,’ said Dubuque. ‘But I knew that something must have gone horribly wrong. And then I received a note, delivered to my office.’ He held a piece of paper out to me, and I read – ‘If M. Dubuque wishes to speak to Dr Watson, he will find him in the alley behind a certain bistro.’ There was no signature, merely the initials ‘AJ.’
‘AJ?’ said I. ‘Arsène Jupin!’
Dubuque nodded. ‘That is what I tell myself! Jupin, then, is somehow involved in this affair! And so I come here and search the place, but we found nobody inside, apart from the owner and a couple of customers with little money and less gastronomic scholarship. Then I look out here – and sure enough I find you! I tell you frankly, mon ami, that by now I have not the least idea as to what is going on! But at least I found you, and you are well! Well enough,’ he amended.
‘You say you found the proprietor and a couple of customers?’
‘Nobody else was here. They are under arrest in the other room – would you care to see them?’
I followed him next door, and took a good look at the men Dubuque had found; but I did not recognize either of the customers. The proprietor protested his innocence volubly, claiming that the hire of the back room was a business matter, nothing more or less, that he knew nothing of what went on in there, and so forth, and I was inclined to sympathize with his predicament. ‘He is probably telling the truth,’ I told Dubuque. ‘Indubitably he knew they were rogues who had hired his room, but so long as they paid, and did not disturb the legitimate customers – ’
‘Monsieur is absolutely correct!’ the proprietor broke in eagerly.
‘Very well,’ said Dubuque. ‘There will probably be no charges – yet! But I think we shall keep you safe for the time being, all of you.’
And, despite some vigorous objections from the trio, they were duly taken off into police custody. ‘It is as well,’ Dubuque told me. ‘They very likely are innocent, and know nothing of this gang, but on the other hand, there may be a spy among them, left to watch and report back what happens. We shall keep them until this affair is concluded. One way or the other,’ he added rather gloomily.
‘You do not sound overly optimistic,’ said I.
Dubuque shrugged. ‘What would you have me say? One must be realistic, Doctor, and the plain fact is that we still do not have a single clue.’
‘What of Constantine?’
‘That proved a dead end, did it not? I have no more information on this mysterious Constantine than I had earlier. But come, old friend – you are still faint from the blow. We must see that you get a decent night’s sleep, first of all.’
‘But – Holmes!’ I protested.
‘It will do Monsieur Holmes no good at all if Doctor Watson collapses and must go to the hospital, n’est-ce pas? No, a decent night’s rest is what you need. We cannot take you back to the pension, for I am certain that they will be keeping watch there – and besides, it is not a very nice place. No, you must come with me. I have an apartment – only a bachelor’s apartment, bien entendu, homely, Spartan even, but there is a spare room which has a comfortable bed, with silk sheets – ’
‘Oh?’
‘I told you,’ said Dubuque carelessly, ‘it is a bachelor’s apartment.’
‘Ah. Just so.’
I cannot remember just how I got to Dubuque’s ‘Spartan’ apartment; the next thing I recollect is curling up in that comfortable bed between those silk sheets. I cannot say if it was the blow on the head, or the brandy, or the overall excitement of the day which did it – all three taken together, perhaps – but, although my conscience told me that I should be out and about looking for Holmes, my weary body gave up the struggle, and I knew nothing more until I awoke next day to find daylight streaming in at the windows, and Dubuque standing over me, regarding me anxiously.
‘You have slept well indeed,’ he said.
‘Is it late, then?’
‘Nine in the morning, no more. How do you feel?’
‘A good deal better,’ said I, feeling my head. ‘Head’s still a bit sore, but no sign of concussion, or anything serious.’
‘Can you face some breakfast?’
‘I believe I could.’ I joined Dubuque in the tiny kitchen, and he helped me to coffee and rolls. ‘I am delighted that I did not sleep too long,’ said I, ‘for we may have a long day ahead of us.’
Dubuque shrugged his shoulders. ‘I am with you, of course, but – where do you propose to begin? This Constantine is our only clue, and we have not the slightest notion as to where he may live – indeed, we do not even think that Constantine is his surname.’
‘It may be a forename, though. We might start with the police registers, or the electoral roll – ’
‘A mammoth task, I assure you!’
‘I know, only too well. But I cannot sit here enjoying your generous hospitality, knowing all the while that Holmes – ’
‘Calm yourself,’ said Dubuque. ‘We shall act, I assure you. Only, where to begin?’ he added in a troubled voice. He looked at me. ‘For one thing, my friend, we must face the fact that Monsieur Holmes may already be – well, you understand?’
‘No,’ said I, ‘Holmes is not dead – although the gang must think that I am! Their “chief” made a great point of that, he said he wanted Holmes alive, for the time being.’ And I repeated, slowly, ‘For the time being, Dubuque! Yes, he made a great point of that, too! We must act quickly!’
‘But I must ask again – what can we do? Where can we begin?’ Dubuque shrugged, then shook himself, as if to aid his thought processes. ‘But I am forgetting my ma
nners – more coffee, perhaps? Another roll?’
‘No, thank you. But I would thank you for a match,’ and I patted my pockets to find a cigarette. With mixed success: I did not find a cigarette but I did find a solid object – the book I had found in Constantine’s house!
‘Here!’ I cried, taking the thing out and handing it to Dubuque. ‘I had quite forgotten this! It may help us – I found it in a drawer in the room in Constantine’s mansion, when Holmes and I were first locked up there. The only thing approaching a clue that I did find.’
Dubuque took the little volume, and opened it at random. ‘It is interesting, indeed,’ he said, looking at one of the illustrations, ‘although one might think it very far from anatomically accurate.’ He turned the book on its side, the better to judge, and looked at me. You are a doctor, mon ami – tell me, did ever you see a man – ’
‘Not the damned book!’ I cried. ‘There is a piece of paper in there, to mark the place – ’
‘Ah, yes.’ Dubuque took the half-sheet of paper out, and regarded it carefully. ‘It is curious, too, this – listen! “Five silk shirts, eleven collars” – ’
‘You are looking at the wrong side!’ I told him. ‘Turn it over – there is a crest, you see?’
Dubuque turned the paper over, glanced at the top of the page, and shrugged again.
‘Well?’ I demanded.
‘It can have nothing to do with the gang, I assure you,’ said Dubuque.
‘How can you be so sure of that? It seems to me to be a most important clue!’
‘But this crest – there is no mystery there, my friend! Why, I know it well enough without referring to any textbook. It is the crest of Monsieur Huret!’
‘Huret? You know the crest, then?’
‘Just so. He is well known, rich – I assure you that he could not – ’
‘And he has an attractive niece,’ said I. ‘A niece who just happened – oh, quite by chance! – to bump into me, and spent an hour or so questioning me, asking was I English, was I a doctor – oh, Lord! How stupid I have been! Holmes, Holmes, never was your contempt more deserved! Well, I can at least attempt to retrieve the situation now that I have at long last managed to see what has been staring me in the face all along!’
Dubuque had been regarding me with a strange look on his face whilst I reproached myself thus. Now he asked me, ‘Do I understand that you have met Monsieur Huret’s niece?’
‘I did. And, as I say, she spent some considerable time questioning me. And I have no doubt but that she ran straight back to her uncle to tell him the answers. Well,’ said I, making to stand up, ‘we must go round there at once, of course, and confront this Huret!’
Dubuque laid a restraining hand upon my arm. ‘I beg that you will sit down, and listen to me for a moment,’ he said very quietly.
Impressed by his calm demeanour, I sat down. ‘Well?’ I demanded.
‘As an Englishman you can scarcely be expected to know this,’ said Dubuque seriously, ‘but Monsieur Huret is, I assure you, entirely above suspicion.’
‘But – ’
‘No! No buts! Listen! Monsieur Huret has no title, true, but he is an aristocrat of the old school, nevertheless – one of the oldest families in France. Well known – yes! – I told you that I recognized his crest at a glance, and so would half of Paris, I assure you! Rich – of course! But there is more to it than all of that. He was a personal friend of the President, you understand? He is not himself a Deputy, but he wields great political influence – why, rumour has it that the President consulted Huret over the appointment of several ministers. You see now the sort of man he is? You see how silly are your suspicions of him?’
‘And for all that,’ I said, ‘he wrote a note to Constantine!’
Dubuque gave a great shrug of his shoulders. ‘And what of that? A man like Huret, he writes a dozen notes each day! Two dozen! Why, the main part of the note itself is missing – it may have been an invitation, a reply to an invitation – such a man, he gets requests, you understand, petitions, people asking for help – it may have been something of that sort!’
‘It may not.’
Dubuque looked round – in his own apartment, mark you! – and lowered his voice before he continued. ‘What would you do, then?’
‘Well, I would go to his house, and ask if he knows this Constantine. With tact and delicacy, of course – that is understood. But he may be able to help. After all, if he is an honest man, if he has nothing to hide, he would wish to help the police.’
Dubuque shook his head. ‘I dare not! And I beg that you yourself will not dream of such a thing! I do not know how matters stand in England, of course; but imagine that my old friend Lestrade had found a clue which implicated – oh, I do not know – the Duke of Balmoral, let us say.’
‘I am by no means sure that there is a Duke of Balmoral, you know,’ said I doubtfully.
‘Mon Dieu! It is an example only, you understand! This clue, it is an important clue in an important case, and it implicates a relative of Queen Victoria – tell me, Doctor, would Lestrade go at once to Buckingham Palace and knock upon the door, demanding to be let in to interrogate the Duke?’
‘H’mm. I take your point. And this Huret, do you really tell me that he is so important?’
‘As I have told you. Now, I would wish to do what I can, of course, for Monsieur Holmes – but one must think of one’s career; one’s pension. And besides, it is out of the question that Monsieur Huret should be involved in any criminal activity. You may rely upon that.’ Dubuque sat back, then said, ‘But I am forgetting! We have not yet studied the real clue of this piece of paper!’
‘And what may that be, pray?’
‘Why, the laundry list!’
‘Oh, really, Dubuque! What can – ’
‘I beg that you will read it carefully,’ he told me, passing the paper back to me.
‘Oh, very well, then!’ I read aloud, ‘“Five silk shirts, eleven collars, one pair silk drawers, two pairs silk socks – ” Dubuque, I know you mean well, but what on earth – ’
‘It is a curious list, though, is it not?’
‘Well, it certainly reveals a love of ostentatious display at the expense of personal hygiene. But – ’
‘Read on, if you please.’
‘“ – sixteen pairs linen sheets, single; six pairs ditto, double; fifteen pairs cotton sheets, single – ” Good Lord!’
‘Continue!’ said Dubuque, a smile on his face.
‘“ – nineteen blankets, single; six ditto, double; twenty-six cotton towels, hand, quality; fifteen ditto, ordinary; twenty-four, quality, bath.”’ I sat and stared blankly at the thing.
‘It is odd, that, is it not?’ asked Dubuque with a smile.
‘Odd? I should think it is! Dubuque, what on earth can this mean?’
ELEVEN
Dubuque shrugged his shoulders. ‘As to that, I cannot say. But it is very strange.’
‘I cannot disagree with you there.’
Dubuque stood up. ‘I must leave you now,’ said he. ‘We are very busy, you understand, since the assassination of the President. We must have extra men whenever a politician appears in public, and so forth.’
‘And Holmes?’ I asked with some desperation.
‘If we had something to go on – ’ and Dubuque ended the sentiment with another shrug. ‘But I cannot remain here just talking about it, you understand! I would like to help Monsieur Holmes by all means, but we do not even know where he is – not even a hint, a guess, as to where he may be!’
‘If only I could find this Constantine!’
‘We have tried.’ Dubuque looked for his hat and coat. ‘Do you propose to remain here today, to rest perhaps? It might be as well, and I shall return as soon as I can. Why, you might even puzzle out the meaning of the laundry list!’
‘I think I may take a walk outside,’ said I. ‘It looks a glorious day, and I could use some fresh air and gentle exercise.’
‘Well,
here is a spare key,’ said Dubuque, handing it over as he spoke. ‘Treat my apartment as if it were your own.’ He stared hard at me. ‘But you were not perhaps thinking of anything foolish, were you? You did not intend to go to Monsieur Huret’s house, for example?’
‘Good Lord, no!’ said I mendaciously. ‘Such a thought never occurred to me!’
‘Because I have already told you that it would be most inadvisable to do so. You understand, if you did anything so fantastic, and Monsieur Huret called the police to protest, I could not protect you? There are questions already, as I have said, about this jewel robbery of yesterday – fortunately you yourself were not seen anywhere in the vicinity! But, if Monsieur Huret makes a complaint – you comprehend? I would try, bien entendu, but the most I could ask would be that you should be allowed to serve your sentence here, in France herself, and not be sent to Devil’s Island! So, be careful!’ And with that, the honest Dubuque let himself out.
I sat and thought for a time. Despite my own disclaimer, and Dubuque’s warning, I fully intended to go to Huret’s mansion and ask to see him. That much I had decided. But what then? I could hardly accuse Huret point blank of being a criminal mastermind, of plotting to overthrow the government of France! No, perhaps not that exactly – after all, Dubuque might be right, my suspicions might be unfounded. But on the other hand I could ask, civilly enough, if Huret knew a Monsieur Constantine, could I not? Well, whether I could or could not, that was what I proposed to do. If this Huret knew every minister and half the Deputies – nay, if his grandfather had been First Consul and his father President! – I should confront the fellow and ask him what the devil he had done with Holmes. I loaded my revolver – I would not be found wanting there again, at any rate! Then I rummaged in a cupboard and found one of Dubuque’s hats to replace my own unserviceable headgear, then I set out for the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne.
For all my resolution, when I arrived outside the imposing house where I had encountered Mademoiselle Huret, I stood there hesitant. All the objections which Dubuque had raised – and many which he had not – struck me with their full force. What if I were wrong, after all? The circumstance is not one which has been entirely unknown in the course of my eventful life. What if Mademoiselle Huret had bumped into me quite by chance, what if her questions had been merely the natural consequence of an innocent young girl’s impulsiveness? What if the whole business of the note were a monstrous coincidence?
