Complete works of peter.., p.505
Complete Works of Peter Cheyney. Illustrated, page 505
'M'sieu Duplessis,' she said very quietly—but there was a quality in her voice which, somehow, reminded Duplessis of steel, 'I do not think that you need trouble about Mr. Vowles I will deal with Mr. Vowles.... I will deal with. Mr. Vowles very quickly, I promise you.'
Duplessis noticed her clenched fingers. He smiled.
'Vicomtesse,' he said, 'may I have another cup of tea? I know it's cold, but I like cold tea. And I think we're becoming just a little dramatic aren't we? Don't you think that you and I have got to keep very cool, very calm, very level-headed?'
She smiled, and returned to the tea table.
'The tea is not too cold, M'sieu,' she said, 'and it is not often that I am dramatic.'
Duplessis took the cup from her hand. 'I'm glad of that, Vicomtesse,' he said, 'because I think that you should know that I think sufficiently of your courage to imagine that you might do anything to Mr. Vowles if you were sufficiently roused... and,' he continued, 'there have been too many deaths at Birchgate, two too many deaths.'
She looked at him. through lowered lids, and smiled.
'M'sieu,' she said, 'do you think that I would bother to kill Mr. Vowles? If I were to kill anybody it would be somebody who is worth while. Mr. Vowles is not worth killing.
'But, M'sieu, you must allow me to make some new arrangement about this money. I must see that you have some real money. It becomes increasingly necessary that Mr. Sardonin should be released from prison. I don't want to stay in this England of yours interminably. Also, I am ill. This situation gets on my nerves, and I find that, more and more, I require the help of—things—of these cigarettes in order that I may not go quite mad. Besides, M'sieu Duplessis, I cannot expect you to give all your time, and take all this trouble for nothing.'
Duplessis grinned. 'Do you know, Mademoiselle,' he said, 'I thought that myself. I've wasted an awful lot of time, and also this business has cost me a certain amount of money, and so I have...'
Her expression changed. Something like fear came into her eyes. 'And so you think, M'sieu, that you will give It up?' she interrupted. 'That you cannot help me?'
'On the contrary, Vicomtesse,' said Duplessis. 'I want to help you. This business interests me. I find myself to the middle of a maze. I want to find my way out. I find myself holding three or four little threads of a tangled skein, and I rather want to unravel that skein. Perhaps, Mademoiselle, it's mere curiosity, or perhaps I'm interested In something else.'
She glanced at him quickly. 'In what, M'sieu?' she said.
Duplessis got up. 'I have a great deal to do, Mademoiselle,' he said, 'and I must go. As for my interest, I've been interested in... well, Mademoiselle, in most of the bad women of history. I'm always interested in people.'
She raised her eyebrows. 'So, M'sieu, you consider me to be a bad woman,' she said.
Duplessis took his hat. 'No, Mademoiselle,' he said, 'I don't believe you to be a bad woman. On the contrary, I believe you to be a good one—very good, almost too good to be true. Au revoir, Mademoiselle, till the next time.'
He smiled at her and went. She stood in the middle of the floor, looking at the door long after he had shut it.
IX. — HORTENSE
The Chronicle, Adelaide, 2 May 1935
DUPLESSIS, seated in his office, with his feet on his desk, his horn-rimmed spectacles perched precariously on the end of his nose, and a large pipe in his mouth, considered at length his interview of the day before with Mlle. La Vicomtesse de Guerrac.
The more he considered the mentality of this woman the more he was astounded at her coolness and reserve. Duplessis had told her that he held in his fingers a few threads of a tangled skein, and he had an idea that he stood a good chance of unravelling this skein. Duplessis' mind, which was of the card-index variety, had stored away every incident, every fact, which had happened since he had begun this investigation three weeks ago.
But his mind was not entirely card-index. Occasionally, Duplessis had a flash of intuition of the type which is usually called feminine, and he began to wonder whether he had not wasted a great deal of time on a wild goose chase. He realised that he had placed far too much importance on the deaths of Nirac and Dupont. True, these were strange occurrences, but Duplessis wondered whether they had any real bearing on the central idea which was now in his mind.
He tried to work out some picture into which these two deaths would fit as part of some preconceived scheme. At the moment he found it difficult. The skein was well ravelled, thought Duplessis, as well ravelled as the string which had been twisted round the hands of the unfortunate Nirac. The skein had been as well wound as the reel of cotton which Dupont had grasped as he died. Duplessis wondered about that string, and about that reel of cotton. What could they have to do with this thing? Yet, in his mind, there was a definite idea that, sooner or later, he would find some connecting point. Once more he pondered over two remarks which Anne de Guerrac had made the day before—two remarks which, casual as they may have seemed at the time, now took, in the mind of Duplessis, the form of pivots from which much might be learned. The first—'who else was there to change it?'
'Well,' pondered Duplessis, 'who else was there to change it?' He blew clouds of smoke at the ceiling, and a little smile played round his mouth. The other remark—'Vowles is not worth killing.' Why was Vowles not worth killing? If anybody was worth killing why not Vowles?
Taking it for the sake of argument that the deaths of Nirac and Dupont had not been natural, were they worth killing? Why was Dupont—this little, weedy, poor, French tailor—worth killing?... If he had been killed.
Duplessis took his feet off his desk, and picked up the telephone. He called the Alcazar Hotel, and asked for the Vicomtesse's suite. Her maid answered.
'Mademoiselle La Vicomtesse is not in town, M'sieu,' said the French girl. 'She 'as gone away. She does not zink she will be back until tomorrow.'
Duplessis said, 'Thank you.' and hung up the receiver.
So Anne de Guerrac had gone away. It did not require much thinking as to where she had gone, thought Duplessis. Probably, at this moment, one of those little conversations between the enterprising Vowles and the attractive, unhappy Vicomtesse de Guerrac was now in full swing. She had said that she would deal with Vowles. Duplessis wondered exactly how she would deal with him. Rather a tough proposition, Duplessis thought, a woman dealing with Vowles. But for the moment he did not believe that there was any reason for him to be too interested in any conversation between Vowles and the lady.
Duplessis put down his pipe and lit a cigarette. It seemed to him that he must take desperate measures, if need be. It was obvious that he was going to get little help from Mlle. de Guerrac from now on. On this point he had made up his mind. At the same time Duplessis did not consider that he would need a great deal of help—if one or two other things went as he wanted them to go.
He left his office, picked up a cab in Fleet street, and drove to the Alcazar. He went straight up to de Guerrac's suite, and rang the bell. The maid, whom he had heard called Hortense, opened the door. She looked surprised.
'M'sieu, I told you zat Mademoiselle La Vicomtesse would not be back until tomorrow.'
'I know,' said Duplessis, 'but I want to talk to you, Hortense. I want you to let me have ten minutes of your valuable time.'
'Entrez, M'sieu,' said the maid.
Duplessis went in to the sitting-room. He sniffed, and it seemed that in some vague way there was a perfume—a subtle one—of Anne de Guerrac. He remembered his interview of yesterday when he had watched her across the tea table.
'Listen to me, Hortense,' he said. 'Are you fond of Mademoiselle la Vicomtesse?'
The girl nodded. 'M'sieu,' she said, 'I zink zat I would die for 'er.'
'Excellent.' said Duplessis. 'Well nobody's going to ask you to do that. But I would like you to know, Hortense, that I consider your mistress to be in very grave danger—danger which is so urgent that I must ask you to help me.'
The girl looked troubled.
'What do you want to do, M'sieu?' she said. 'I am so frightened.'
'You're not the only one,' said Duplessis. 'So am I. But you have noticed things, I expect, Hortense.'
The maid nodded. 'M'sieu, 'ow could I 'elp noticin'?' she said. 'Mademoiselle 'as been so terribly un'appy. It 'as almos' broken my 'eart. In Paris at ze end of las' year it was terrible. Always zese meetings, always zis secrecy, zis air of mystery, wiz Mademoiselle becomin' paler, more ill every day. I zought...'
'Just a minute,' said Duplessis, 'what meetings?'
'Zese men,' said the maid, 'zese men 'oo are all so ill.'
Duplessis nodded. 'Nirac was one of them, wasn't he, Hortense?' he said, 'and Dupont?'
'Yes,' said the maid, 'and one called Ragosin. 'E was a gentleman, was M. Ragosin. And Baourdat, 'e was very rich—very rich. And M. Vowles, sneakin' about ze place like a shadow.'
Duplessis nodded. 'Tell me,' he said, 'was not Mr. Sardonin able to help the Vicomtesse?'
The girl shook her head. 'I don't zink so.' she said. 'M. Sardonin was very worried. Also, 'e did not come very often. If 'e did it was only for a minute. Some'ow—I do' not know why—it seemed zat Mademoiselle believed zat whatever was wrong would be right when M. Sardonin came to Englan'. But, no, it seemed zat zings got worse. For some time Mademoiselle 'ad been smokin' zese cigarettes—zese 'orrible zings which make 'er so ill. Zen, some time after M. Sardonin was in Englan', she became more worried, more ill. She smoked more cigarettes. Zen, las' of all, came zis 'orrible news—zat M. Sardonin 'ad been arrested—imprisoned. At first I zought zat Mademoiselle would go mad. But, after, she became very cool, very quiet. She seemed to 'ave made up 'er mind about somezin'. It was ze coolness of someone 'oo's what you call desperate,' said Hortense. 'Zen we came over to England.'
Duplessis lit a cigarette. 'Tell me, Hortense.' he said, 'who was the friend who introduced to the Vicomtesse these drugged cigarettes?'
The girl shrugged her shoulders. 'I do not know, M'sieu,' she said. 'But I would not be surprised if it were not M. Vowles.'
She looked round, and then approached closer to Duplessis. 'I tell you, M'sieu,' she said. 'I believe zat it was M. Vowles 'oo got zese drugs. I believe it was 'im. Zis Dupont—Mademoiselle 'as tol' me of 'is deat! 'E was nuzzing—a little journeyman tailor. I believe zat 'e was ze man 'oom M. Vowles sen' out wiz ze drugs, 'because I noticed zat when Mademoiselle 'ad no more cigarettes Dupont would come, an' she would 'ave a good supply afterwards.'
Duplessis nodded. 'Vowles doesn't seem to be popular,' he said.
'Mademoiselle 'ates 'im,' said the maid, 'an' I 'ate 'im, too. 'E's an awful man.'
Duplessis pondered. So Vowles had been in Paris, drug-peddling. Duplessis was not surprised. Vowles was the sort of cheapjack who would be well content to make a good living out of the misfortunes of other people. He would not have peddled drugs in England, thought Duplessis. The laws were much too strict there, but in Paris, if you know the place to go to, a packet of cocaine can be pushed over the counter with the same frankness as a box of cigarettes or a packet of tobacco. Vowles might easily be in his element—large profits and very little risk.
He threw the stub of his cigarette into the fire-grate, and lit another.
'Hortense,' he said, 'you don't think that I would do anything which would hurt Mademoiselle, do you?'
The girl looked at him. 'No. M'sieu,' she said. 'Why should you? Why do you ask me zat?'
'Just for this reason,' said Duplessis. 'I think that it is very necessary that I examine any private papers which the Vicomtesse may have. Do you know if she has any such papers, and, if so, do you know where she keeps them?'
The girl hesitated.
'M'sieu,' she said, 'I know a little of Mademoiselle's private affairs. She 'as some papers. She keeps zem in a black portfolio. It is locked always, an' ze portfolio is in 'er wardrobe in a drawer which is also locked. I 'ave seen 'er open ze portfolio an' look at ze papers, but I do not know what is inside it.'
Duplessis smiled. 'I want to look at those papers, Hortense,' he said, 'and I give you my word that it is right that I should do so. If I don't it may be necessary for me to give the police such information that they certainly will want to see those papers.'
The maid shook her head. 'M'sieu,' she said, 'zat is as it may be, but I cannot 'elp you do a zing like zat. It is not my affair. If you want to do somezin' like zat you mus' tell Mademoiselle herself. No, it is not possible.'
Duplessis shrugged his shoulders. But luck favoured him. The telephone on the small table at his elbow jangled. The maid stepped forward, but before she could take up the instrument Duplessis took it.
'Hallo,' said a voice. Before Duplessis could reply, another voice interposed.
'You're on to the wrong suite,' said the voice, evidently that of the girl on the hotel switchboard. 'Just a minute, and I'll get you the one you want.' Then to Duplessis. 'Will you hang up, please.'
Duplessis blessed his luck, and did nothing of the sort. With one of the fingers with which he held the telephone he pressed down the receiver hook, and then continued speaking.
'Oh, Mademoiselle la Vicomtesse,' he said, 'I'm delighted that you've rung up. At this moment I've been speaking to Hortense. I told her that it was necessary that I should look at those papers of yours—that it must be done today—but, like a good maid, she said it was quite impossible, more especially as they were locked up'...'Oh, yes. Mademoiselle, certainly. She's to meet you where?'...'At Charing Cross. When?'...'In twenty minutes time. Very well, Mademoiselle. I'll wait here till you return with Hortense.'
He hung up the receiver. 'Hortense,' he said, 'this solves the difficulty. Luckily we shan't be forced to do anything which Mademoiselle doesn't know about. As you've heard, she wants you to meet her at Charing Cross in twenty minutes time. She's coming straight back, and I'm to await her here.'
The maid was entirely deceived.
'Very well, M'sieu,' she said, and went out. Duplessis waited until he heard the outer door of the suite close behind the maid. Then he went outside into the hall and opened the doors of the rooms until he found what was, obviously, Anne de Guerrac's bedroom. Opposite to him, on the other side of the room, was a large wardrobe—one of those fitted with drawers on one side. In one of those drawers, thought Duplessis, would be the portfolio which was also locked. He hoped the locks would not be too difficult.
Duplessis realised that he was taking a chance—taking a chance of finding in the portfolio what he thought would be there, something which would decide definitely in his mind that the idea—the idea which had come to him during the last 12 hours—was right....
He walked over, and knelt down before the wardrobe, testing the bottom drawer by pulling and pushing it back. The lock was, obviously, an old fashioned one, and in three minutes, by the expert use of the strongest blade in his pen-knife, Duplessis had forced down the tooth of the lock, and had the drawer open. No luck. The drawer was filled with feminine fripperies, and nothing else.
It took Duplessis another five minutes to get the second drawer open. He realised that time was precious. In another 15 minutes Hortense would arrive at Charing Cross, and, finding no Vicomtesse awaiting her, would probably return. And Duplessis wanted as much time as he could get.
He was lucky over the second drawer. Underneath a pile of laces and silk stockings he found the portfolio. It was a heavy, black, leathern affair with a good steel-lined lock. Duplessis realised that he could not spare the time to force it. In any event, Anne de Guerrac would know, sooner or later, what he had done. He closed the now blunted blade of his pen-knife, and opening a smaller, sharp blade, proceeded to cut through, the leather of the portfolio round the lock. He had just about completed this process, was just about to open the portfolio, when he heard a voice... Someone was outside.
With a shrug, Duplessis realised that there was nothing to be done. If it were a hotel servant he would probably find himself arrested. If it were Hortense returned before her expected time, he could deal with the situation. It was neither.
It was Anne de Guerrac.
She stood at the open door regarding him with a mixture of suspicion, dislike, and contempt.
'I didn't expect to find you here. M'sieu,' she said. 'Certainly, I didn't expect to find you trying to read my private papers. Do they interest you so much? Would not it have been better for you to have asked me if you might look at them, instead of coming here and tricking my unfortunate maid? I met her a little way away looking for a taxi-cab, and she told me of your pretended conversation with me.'
Duplessis rose from his knees. The fact that the Vicomtesse had told him he might look through the portfolio told him Very plainly that what he sought was not there.
'I'm sorry, Mademoiselle,' said Duplessis, 'but you seem so reluctant to tell me the whole truth, as I told you yesterday, that I imagined myself forced to conduct this little investigation. However; since you give me permission to look through your papers I feel that I don't want to do so.'
She nodded. 'I am very disappointed in you, M'sieu Duplessis,' she said. 'I did not think that you were like that.'
Duplessis smiled cynically. 'No, Vicomtesse,' he said, 'you didn't think that I was "like that"? In other words, you thought that I'd be entirely honest with you. Ask yourself—have you been entirely honest with me? Have you played a straight game by me? Have you told me the truth since this business began, or have you not? Why be surprised, Mademoiselle, that there are two of us who aren't entirely honest?'
She paused for a moment, and then spoke. 'I do not think, M'sieu, that there is anything further for us to discuss.' she said.
'It seems not, Mademoiselle,' said Duplessis, 'at least not at the moment. But if I may ask a question, tell me, did you succeed in dealing with Mr. Vowles?'
She smiled. Duplessis saw her white teeth. 'Oh, yes,' she said. 'I've dealt with Mr. Vowles quite successfully.'
She made an almost imperceptible movement of the hand which held her handbag. Duplessis noticed it.
