Detective and mystery stories; Murder -- Investigation -- Fiction; Police -- England -- Fiction
‘I thank you,’ said Burnley. ‘The matter is rather a serious one. It
is briefly this. On Monday last--four days ago--a cask arrived in
London from Paris. Some circumstances with which I need not trouble
you aroused the suspicions of the police, with the result that the
cask was seized and opened. In it were found, packed in sawdust, two
things, firstly, £52 10s. in English gold, and secondly the body of a
youngish woman, evidently of good position, and evidently murdered by
being throttled by a pair of human hands.’
‘Horrible!’ ejaculated the little man.
‘The cask was of very peculiar construction, the woodwork being at
least twice as heavy as that of an ordinary wine cask and secured by
strong iron bands. And, sir, the point that has brought us to you is
that your firm’s name was stencilled on it after the words “Return
to,” and it was addressed on one of your firm’s labels.’
The little man sprang to his feet.
‘Our cask? Our label?’ he cried, in evident astonishment. ‘Do I
understand you to say, sir, that the cask containing this body was
sent out by us?’
‘No, sir,’ returned Burnley, ‘I did not say that. I simply say that
it arrived bearing your name and label. I am in total ignorance of
how or when the body was put in. That is what I am over from London
to investigate.’
‘But the thing is utterly incredible,’ said M. Thévenet, pacing up
and down the room. ‘No, no,’ he added, with a wave of his hand as
Burnley would have spoken, ‘I don’t mean that I doubt your word. But
I cannot but feel that there must be a terrible mistake.’
‘It is only right to add, sir,’ continued Burnley, ‘that I did not
myself see the label. But it was seen by the men of the carrying
company, and especially by one of their clerks who examined it
carefully after suspicion had been aroused. The label was afterwards
destroyed by Felix, to whom the cask was addressed.’
‘Felix, Felix, the name seems familiar. What was the full name and
address?’
‘M. Léon Felix, 141 West Judd Street, Tottenham Court Road, London,
W.C.’
‘Ah, of course,’ rejoined M. Thévenet. ‘There is, then, really such a
man? I rather doubted it at the time, you know, for our advice card
of the despatch of the cask was returned marked, “Not known,” and I
then looked him up in the London directory and could not find him. Of
course, as far as we were concerned, we had the money and it did not
matter to us.’
Burnley and his colleague sat up sharply.
‘I beg your pardon, M. Thévenet,’ said Burnley. ‘What’s that you say?
At the time? At what time, if you please?’
‘Why, when we sent out the cask. When else?’ returned the director,
looking keenly at his questioner.
‘But, I don’t understand. You _did_ send out a cask then, addressed
to Felix at Tottenham Court Road?’
‘Of course we did. We had the money, and why should we not do so?’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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