slip away, returning to Brussels about six. I dined at a café in the Boulevard Anspach, and then, thinking I would try and distract my thoughts, decided I would turn in for a couple of hours to a theatre. I telephoned to the Hôtel Maximilian, where I usually stayed, to reserve a room, and then I went to Berlioz’s _Les Troyens_ at the Théâtre de la Monnaie, getting to my hotel about eleven. That night I slept well and next day my brain seemed saner and better. I left Brussels by the 12.50 from the Gare du Midi, arriving at Paris about five. Looking back on that abortive journey is like remembering a nightmare, but I think the solitude and the exercise really helped me.’ When M. Boirac ceased speaking, there was silence for a few moments, while Lefarge, in just the same painstaking way that Burnley would have adopted, went over in his mind what he had heard. He did not wish to question M. Boirac too closely lest, in the unlikely event of that gentleman proving guilty, he should put him on his guard; but he was anxious to miss no detail of the statement, so that he might as far as possible check it by independent testimony. On the whole, he thought the story reasonable, and, so far, he could see no internal reason for doubting it. He would, therefore, get a few details made clearer and take his leave. ‘Thank you, M. Boirac. Might I ask a few supplementary questions? At what time did you leave your office on Tuesday?’ ‘About nine-thirty.’ ‘What café did you lunch at in Charenton?’ ‘I don’t remember. It was in a street about half-way between the station and the steamboat wharf, a rather poor place with an overhanging, half-timbered front.’ ‘And what time was that?’ ‘About one-thirty, I think. I am not sure.’ ‘And from where did you telephone to your house and office?’ ‘From the same café.’ ‘About what time?’ ‘About an hour later, say half-past two.’ ‘Now, the café in the Place de la Bastille. Which one was it?’ ‘I am not very certain. I think it was at the corner of the rue St. Antoine. At all events it faced up the rue de Lyon.’ ‘And you were there about what time?’ ‘Eight-thirty, I should say.’ ‘Did you get your bag at the Gare du Nord?’ ‘Yes, it was waiting for me at the left luggage office.’ ‘Did you have a sleeping berth on the train?’ ‘No, I travelled in an ordinary first-class compartment.’ ‘Was there any one else in it?’ ‘Three other men. I did not know any of them.’ ‘Now, all that day, Tuesday, did you meet any one who knew you, or who could confirm your statement?’ ‘Not that I can remember, unless the waiters at the cafés could do so.’ ‘On the next day, Wednesday, from where did you telephone to the Hôtel Maximilian?’ ‘From the café where I dined. It was in the Boulevard Anspach, just before it opens into the Place Brouckère. I don’t recall the name.’ ‘What time was the message sent?’ ‘Just before dinner, about seven, I should say.’ The detective stood up and bowed.