‘It would have been too obvious,’ returned Lefarge, delighted with the rapid strides his theory was making. ‘It would have been crude. Felix would argue that if Boirac had written that letter, he would never have signed it himself. It was a subtle idea introducing Le Gautier’s name. ‘If Felix did it,’ Burnley continued, ‘it would certainly clear up the difficulty of the authorship of the letter. He is the only man we have discovered so far that would have had the necessary knowledge to write it. He was present at the Café Toisson d’Or, and had joined with Le Gautier in the lottery, and therefore knew that part of it. The discussion about criminals evading the police and the bet between Le Gautier and Dumarchez, neither of which we believe took place, he could have invented to account for the receipt of the cask, and finally, he would naturally know the details about the last journey of the cask, since he himself arranged them.’ ‘Quite so,’ cried Lefarge eagerly, ‘it all works in. I believe we are beginning to see light. And we must not forget Suzanne’s evidence about the note. It is clear Madame and Felix had an understanding for that night. At least, we know of messages passing between them and the reply of Felix points to an assignation.’ ‘An important point, certainly. And yet,’ the Chief objected, ‘there are difficulties. That singular point about the hatpins, for example. What do you make of that, Lefarge?’ ‘Agitation, monsieur. I would suggest that this lady was so excited at the action she was about to take that she hardly knew what she was doing.’ The Chief shook his head. ‘I don’t know that that is very satisfactory,’ he said. ‘Might it not, as also the fact that she took no luggage, mean that she never left the house at all? That she was murdered that same evening of the dinner-party, and the hat and coat removed to make a false scent? I suppose you have considered that?’ Burnley answered at once.