Son of Holmes

“Well, Jules, what wakes you so early?”

I’d play his game. “Curiousity, Jacques. I wanted to see if eight o’clock came twice a day. Someone told me it appeared in the morning, and I wanted to check it out for myself.”

He smiled tolerantly.

“But,” I said, “I really thought I’d drop by and see if you’d picked up Lupa or gotten anywhere with this thing. I had a devil of a time sleeping last night, what with all your talk of international affairs. Have you got him? Did he confess?”

Magiot arranged some papers on his desk, taking his time. He got out a cigarette, offered me one which I refused, and lit it. “No,” he said finally, “we didn’t get him. He’d left La Couro

“Lupa left? When did he go? I saw him there only yesterday morning.”

“Evidently Vernet fired him outright when he learned of the forged papers. He packed up and left immediately. You know they’ve hired your man-Fritz, isn’t it?-to take his place?”

“No. No, I didn’t know that.”

“By the way, Jules, why did you fire him just at this time?”

I shrugged. “I found myself not trusting him. It wasn’t anything specific that brought it on, but since he’d brought in the beers that night, it occurred to me that he’d had as good a chance as anyone to poison one of them. I kept getting more and more nervous as mealtimes approached, until finally I wasn’t enjoying his cooking, so I let him go.”

“But I understand he brought the beers in on a tray from which everyone selected…”

“True. As I said, it wasn’t anything specific. I just can’t have a man in my house whom I don’t trust completely. He could have arranged it, possibly.”

“Yes, from your point of view, possible. I think you’ve been unjust, though it’s your right.”

I shrugged again. “There are other chefs. But what are you doing about Lupa? Have you any ideas?”

“None, really. He didn’t leave by train. At least, no one saw him leave by train. He could really be anywhere. We’ve wired all the neighboring towns and asked for their hotel lists, though of course he’ll change his name. He may have sheafs of forged papers. Still, I think we’ll get him. You can rest assured.”

“I hope so. Why, though, did you wait until last night to go for him? Surely you could have picked him up at any time.”

“We’d already been by in the morning, if you remember what I told you yesterday-it must have been after you had talked to him, because he wasn’t there. We reasoned our best chance to find him was during di

“A shame,” I said, sincerely.

“Damned right,” he agreed, stubbing out his cigarette. “And now, old friend, if there’s nothing else, I should be getting on to routines. I’m glad to see you showing some interest at least. Do drop around later if you have any more questions. We should have him within the week.”

“Yes. Well, thank you for your time, Jacques. I know the way out.”

Out in the corridor, I allowed myself a smile. Passing through the lobby, my hands in my pockets and my head down, I heard a familiar voice. The American accent echoed unmelodically off the marble walls. I stopped and saw Paul leaning over the reception desk, obviously angry.

“But I’ve been reporting at St. Etie

The gendarme replied in a low voice.

“Well, all right then, arrest me, but at least let me…”

I tapped him on the shoulder. “Paul,” I said.

He stopped and turned. “Jules, thank God. Listen, can you help me? These people don’t seem to realize that I can’t report to St. Etie

“Why not?”

“I received a wire from my publishers telling me to meet their representative tonight in Valence. So I thought it would be a simple enough matter to report here, but this man here keeps telling me that it’s against the rules. If I were told to report in St. Etie

“Why don’t you just wire the representative to meet you in St. Etie

“He’s already left by now, Jules. If I’m not here, they won’t take it lightly.”

“I imagine not. All right, let me talk to him.”

I leaned over the desk and pointed out to the flic that since they already had a suspect, it was rather pointless to keep hounding everyone else involved. Perhaps Monsieur Magiot would see the logic of my position. At the mention of the chief’s name, the desk guard looked down and mumbled that perhaps something could be done to accommodate the monsieur. I told him I sincerely hoped so. Then I turned, took Paul’s arm, and walked out the front door.

Out on the stoop, I put my arm around him. “Well, how are you?”

“Fine, now, thank you. Let me buy you a drink.”

“Volontiers.”

We settled in a cafe, and I surprised both Paul and myself by ordering a Vichy water.

“What were you doing in the station?” he asked. “I certainly didn’t expect to run into you there.”

“Oh, the police chief here is an old acquaintance of mine. Yesterday he told me they were going to arrest Lupa, and-”

“So it was him. I’m damned.”

“Not necessarily. The police have decided it was him, and he’s left town-”

“Well, that clinches it.”

“Well, yes, it appears so. Anyway, I was at the station to see if they’d got him and found all this out. Seems his papers were forged, too.”

He sipped at his whiskey. “Doesn’t surprise me any, though.”

“No?”

“No. Look at it like this, Jules. We’d all been meeting there at your place for a long time, and if anybody wanted to kill Marcel they could have done it any old time. But everybody liked Marcel. ’Course there’s other reasons for killing than having it be personal. But anyway, this Lupa fellow comes in, and right off Marcel is killed, and then Lupa runs away. Didn’t he have to register every day? He was foreign, too, wasn’t he?”

“I suppose they asked him to. But no, since he was in town, they only requested that he not leave.”

“Well, there, now. I hope they hang the bastard.”

We were sitting on the sidewalk, and the talk turned to other matters. It was a fine day, and we chatted until noon and then decided to have a bite.

Halfway through our ham sandwiches, Paul looked up across the street and spoke. “It’s old home week at Grand Central.” He motioned with his head to a couple walking toward us on the other side of the road, as yet unaware of us. It was Georges and Madame Pulis. When they were abreast of us, Paul called out to them.

“The secret’s out now about you two. Come on over and join us and maybe we won’t tell Henri.”

They stopped abruptly, waved, and waited for the traffic to let up. Georges took her by the arm and, limping nimbly, guided her to our table. They ordered drinks, and while waiting for them to arrive, Georges continued the teasing.

“Now that it’s known, my dear, why hide it any longer?” He winked at us as Madame Pulis flushed crimson. Taking her hand, he gave it a gallant kiss. “Or is it to be au revoir?” He turned his head away in mock despair.

“Oh, Georges, stop.” Madame Pulis was rather heavily set, but not unattractive when she wasn’t crying. She smiled broadly and took us all in. “Georges came by to see Henri, but he’s off delivering somewhere, so Georges offered to accompany me to the market. That’s all there is to it.”

“What’s the line about the lady protesting too much?” asked Georges, laughing.

She blushed again as the drinks arrived.

“What brings you back so early, Georges?” I asked. “I thought you weren’t due in Valence until tomorrow evening.”

“Luck,” he said. “Two appointments canceled. Just as well. I could use the time off.”