Through the Wall Part 22

It was not Papa Tignol, however, who was to furnish this information, but the discomfited Gibelin whose presence in the outer office was at this moment announced by the judge's clerk.

"Ask him to come in," said Hauteville, and a moment later Coquenil's fat, red-haired rival entered with a smile that made his short mustache fairly bristle in triumph.

"Ah, you have news for us!" exclaimed the judge.

Gibelin beamed. "I haven't wasted my time," he nodded. Then, with a sarcastic glance at Coquenil: "The old school has its good points, after all."

"No doubt," agreed Coquenil curtly.

"Although I am no longer in charge of this case," rasped the fat man, "I suppose there is no objection to my rendering my distinguished a.s.sociate,"

he bowed mockingly to M. Paul, "such a.s.sistance as is in my power."

"Of course not," replied Hauteville.

"I happened to hear that this American has a room on the Rue Racine and I just looked in there."

"Ah!" said the judge, and Coquenil rubbed his gla.s.ses nervously. There is no detective big-souled enough not to tingle with resentment when he finds that a rival has scored a point.

"Our friend lives at the Hotel des etrangers, near the corner of the Boulevard St. Michel," went on Gibelin. "I _happened_ to be talking with the man who sent out the banquet invitations and he told me. M. Kittredge has a little room with a brick floor up six flights. And long! And black!"

He rubbed his knees ruefully. "But it was worth the trouble. Ah, yes!" His small eyes brightened.

"You examined his things?"

"_Pour sur!_ I spent an hour there. And talked the soul out of the chambermaid. A good-looking wench! And a sharp one!" he chuckled. "_She_ knows the value of a ten-franc piece!"

"Well, well," broke in M. Paul, "what did you discover?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Gibelin beamed. 'The old school has its good points, after all.'"]

Gibelin lifted his pudgy hands deprecatingly. "For one thing I discovered a photograph of the woman who was in Number Six with Martinez."

"The devil!" cried Coquenil.

"It is not of much importance, since already you have the woman's name and address." He shot a keen glance at his rival.

M. Paul was silent. What humiliation was this! No doubt Gibelin had heard the truth and was gloating over it!

"How do you know it is the woman's photograph?" questioned the judge.

"I'll tell you," replied Gibelin, delighted with his sensation. "It's quite a story. I suppose you know that when this woman slipped out of the Ansonia, she drove directly to the house where we arrested the American.

You knew that?" He turned to Coquenil.

"No."

"Well, I _happened_ to speak to the _concierge_ there and she remembers perfectly a lady in an evening gown with a rain coat over it like the one this woman escaped in. This lady sent a note by the _concierge_ up to the apartment of that she-dragon, the sacristan's wife, where M. Kittredge was calling on Alice."

"Ah! What time was that?"

"About a quarter to ten. The note was for M. Kittredge. It must have been a _wild_ one, for he hurried down, white as a sheet, and drove off with the lady. Fifteen minutes later they stopped at his hotel and he went up to his room, two steps, at a time, while she waited in the cab. And Jean, the _garcon_, had a good look at her and he told Rose, the chambermaid, and _she_ had a look and recognized her as the woman whose photograph she had often seen in the American's room."

"Ah, that's lucky!" rejoined the judge. "And you have this photograph?"

"No, but----"

"You said you found it?" put in Coquenil.

"I did, that is, I found a piece of it, a corner that wasn't burned."

"Burned?" cried the others.

"Yes," said Gibelin, "that's what Kittredge went upstairs for, to burn the photograph and a lot of letters--_her_ letters, probably. The fireplace was full of fresh ashes. Rose says it was clean before he went up, so I picked out the best fragments--here they are." He drew a small package from his pocket, and opening it carefully, showed a number of charred or half-burned pieces of paper on which words in a woman's handwriting could be plainly read.

"More fragments!" muttered Coquenil, examining them. "It's in English. Ah, is this part of the photograph?" He picked out a piece of cardboard.

"Yes. You see the photographer's name is on it."

"Watts, Regent Street, London," deciphered the detective. "That is something." And, turning to the judge: "Wouldn't it be a good idea to send a man to London with this? You can make out part of a lace skirt and the tip of a slipper. It might be enough."

"That's true," agreed Hauteville.

"Whoever goes," continued Coquenil, "had better carry him the five-pound notes found on Martinez and see if he can trace them through the Bank of England. They often take the names of persons to whom their notes are issued."

"Excellent. I'll see to it at once," and, ringing for his secretary, the judge gave orders to this effect.

To all of which Gibelin listened with a mocking smile. "But why so much trouble," he asked, "when you have the woman's name and address already?"

"I _had_ them and I--I lost them," acknowledged M. Paul, and in a few words he explained what had happened.

"Oh," sneered the other, "I thought you were a skillful wrestler."

"Come back to the point," put in Hauteville. "Had the chambermaid ever seen this lady before?"

"Yes, but not recently. It seems that Kittredge moved to the Hotel des etrangers about seven months ago, and soon after that the lady came to see him. Rose says she came three times."

"Did she go to Kittredge's room?" put in Coquenil.

"Yes."

"Can the chambermaid describe her?" continued the judge.

"She says the lady was young and good-looking--that's about all she remembers."

"Hm! Have you anything else to report?"

Gibelin chuckled harshly. "I have kept the most important thing for the last. I'm afraid it will annoy my distinguished colleague even more than the loss of the leather fragments."

"Don't waste your sympathy," retorted Coquenil.