Son of Holmes

“Same man?” Lupa asked.

“Yes, sir. I’m sure of it.”

“Did you get a better look at his face this time?”

“Yes, sir. I think I could identify him.”

“Satisfactory. Go on.”

“So I stayed my ground until nine o’clock or thereabouts, and a chilly ground it was, though not so bad as yesterday. Anyway, then I made it out to the road to Valence and waited for Pulis. He showed up in about an hour by horsecart, loaded with supplies. I kind of expected him to dawdle around, but he rode directly to the loading gate and left the cart with the guards while he crossed the street and had some coffee.”

“He never went inside the gate?”

“No. They don’t allow it.”

“How long did the unloading take?”

“No more than a quarter hour. Then they sent a man over to get him, and he picked up the cart and started back out of town. I followed him back to where I’d picked him up, but he looked like he was just heading back here, so I let him go. I didn’t like leaving the factory unwatched for so long. Then I got back and watched them arranging things for shipment for a time. Old Ponty kept ru

“Tania was there?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Was she alone?”

“She came alone and went inside. Then, a few minutes later, she left with Ponty. They were gone maybe an hour for lunch, or I suppose it was lunch.”

“How were they acting?” put in Lupa.

“I couldn’t say, sir, I was too far away.”

“All right. Continue.”

“They returned at about one, as I said, and both went back inside. After only a few minutes, she came back out and left. I was tempted to follow her, but you’d only said to follow Pulis if it looked promising, so I stayed. I’m glad I did. For about an hour, it was the same story of loading and unloading, with Ponty ru

“Good,” Lupa said. “Did anyone enter or leave after Madame Chessal?”

“Yes, the janitor.”

“When did he go?”

“Maybe ten minutes after the smoking stopped.”

“Is that his normal quitting time?”

“I can’t say for sure, sir. The other times I’ve been there, he’s left at all different times. Last night he was evidently still on duty when I left, and that was late. Maybe his schedule varies on different days.”

“All right.” Lupa nodded, and Watkins continued.

“About three o’clock, then, Ponty came out to check on something at the guard’s gate. Some of the trucks had started their motors, and things appeared to be getting under way, when all of a sudden the whole place just blew up from inside. It was something to see.”

“I’d imagine so.”

“When things settled a bit, I ran over, as if I were a by-stander, to see if I could help. The whole building had been leveled, but outside, things weren’t so bad, not so bad as I’d imagined from the size of the explosion.” He reached into his pocket-“Anyone care for an olive?”-and continued. “Ponty was already up and around, trying to help wherever he could, and he did get a few of the trucks on the road, but generally he was ru

“Satisfactory,” Lupa said. “You did well.” He turned to me. “You told me that the ammunition room was impossible to enter.”

“It seemed to be.”

“Hmm…” He leaned back and closed his eyes. Watkins and I watched him thinking for nearly a minute, though it seemed much longer. Finally, he sighed and sat up.

“Yes,” he said. “No doubt of it.”

There was a knock at the office door, and I got up to open it. It was Fritz, a

We cleared the desk to make room for the dishes. Fritz brought in a bowl so that Watkins could wash himself, and then began bringing in the courses. Being in danger didn’t seem to have any effect on Lupa’s appetite. I hardly touched the oyster bisque, and though the shad roe was superb, even for Fritz, I found it difficult to get it down. Lupa, on the other hand, ate with relish, talking animatedly about the new book he was reading, the socialist Jaure’s L’Armee Nouvelle. I tried to steer the conversation back around to the explosion, but he insisted we leave it until we’d dined.

“Business during meals upsets the digestion. In this case especially, there is nothing more to discuss.” He continued unperturbed through the crème caramel and coffee, while Watkins and I glanced at each other from time to time, shaking our heads.

He rang for Fritz to come clear the service, but there was no response. Evidently someone else was in the kitchen, and he’d unlatched the bell.

Lupa moved everything to one side, poured himself another cup of coffee, and sat back in his chair. I lit a cigarette and stared at him.

“Yes?” he said finally.

“I was casually wondering what we should do now.”

“You’re sure that everyone will be here tomorrow?”

I nodded and he sighed contentedly.

“Then there’s nothing else to be done. You may as well go on home. This affair will conclude tomorrow night. Indeed, it is over now-there only remains to wrap it up and deliver it to your friend Magiot.”

I thought he was kidding me. “Oh, fine,” I said. “Should I call him now?”

“I think not. It would be premature. Tomorrow will suffice. I’ll take care of it.”

I humored him. “Why do you want Magiot here at all?”

He sipped at his coffee. “So that he’ll be convinced not to harass me.” He tried the bell again. “Now, I suggest that tomorrow you see no one until you arrive here, and of course mention to no one that I’ll be present. Our man no doubt thinks the heat is off. It would be instructive to watch him react when he discovers he’s wrong.”

“Yes,” I said, “and, just for the record, who should we be watching?”

He looked shocked. “Is it possible you don’t know? I’m sure it will be clear if you reflect on it. Ah, Fritz, excellent! You were right about the cognac in the bisque-far more delicate than the sherry. I salute you.”

Fritz, who had just entered with his apron, bowed. “Merci.”

“Who was in the kitchen just now?” Lupa asked.

“Monsieur Anser. He wanted to see where the meeting would be held tomorrow night, so I showed him my quarters. He’s dining upstairs.”

“He’s not alone, is he?” I asked.

“I believe so, sir. Should I check again?”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Lupa. He looked at me.

“It makes no difference. As I’ve said, there’s nothing more to be done.”

When Fritz had finished clearing, I stood to go. “Have you any ideas about the ladies?”

“Yes. I have an idea that they are in no danger. I would not be surprised if they were back in Madame Chessal’s home this very minute.”

“Well, then, à demain.”

Not much mollified, I turned to go. Watkins held the tapestry aside for me. As I walked through the tu

I skirted the entrance to La Couro