‘Well, gentlemen, we have heard an interesting story, and, whatever we may think of it, our first business will be to check it as far as we can. I think you had better get away immediately to the Avenue de l’Alma and see this François, if possible before Boirac gets back. Go through the house and get anything you can, especially a sample of the wife’s handwriting. Try also and trace the maid. In the meantime, I will set some other inquiries on foot. You might call in about nine to-night to report progress.’ CHAPTER XV THE HOUSE IN THE AVENUE DE L’ALMA Burnley and Lefarge took the tram along the quais and, dismounting at the Pont Alma, proceeded up the Avenue on foot. The house was a corner one fronting on the Avenue, but with the entrance in the side street. It was set a few feet back from the footpath, and was a Renaissance building of gray rubble masonry, with moulded architraves and enrichments of red sandstone and the usual mansard roof. The two men mounted the steps leading to the ornate porch. On their right were the windows of a large room which formed the angle between the two streets. ‘You can see into that room rather too clearly for my taste,’ said Burnley. ‘Why, if that’s the drawing-room, as it looks to be by the furniture, every caller can see just who’s visiting there as they come up to the door.’ ‘And conversely, I expect,’ returned Lefarge, ‘the hostess can see her visitors coming and be prepared for them.’ The door was opened by an elderly butler of typical appearance, respectability and propriety oozing out of every pore of his sleek face. Lefarge showed his card. ‘I regret M. Boirac is not at home, monsieur,’ said the man politely, ‘but you will probably find him at the works in the rue Championnet.’ ‘Thanks,’ returned Lefarge, ‘we have just had an interview with Mr. Boirac, and it is really you we wish to see.’ The butler ushered them into a small sitting-room at the back of the hall. ‘Yes, messieurs?’ he said. ‘Did you see an advertisement in this morning’s papers for the identification of a lady’s body?’ ‘I saw it, monsieur.’ ‘I am sorry to say it was that of your mistress.’ François shook his head sadly. ‘I feared as much, monsieur,’ he said in a low tone. ‘M. Boirac saw the advertisement also. He came just now to the Sûreté and identified the remains beyond any doubt. It is a painful case, for I regret to tell you she had been murdered in a rather brutal way, and now we are here with M. Boirac’s approval to make some inquiries.’ The old butler’s face paled. ‘Murdered!’ he repeated in a horrified whisper. ‘It couldn’t be. No one that knew her could do that. Every one, messieurs, loved Madame. She was just an angel of goodness.’ The man spoke with real feeling in his voice and seemed overcome with emotion. ‘Well, messieurs,’ he continued, after a pause, ‘any help I can give you to get your hands on the murderer I’ll give with real delight, and I only hope you’ll succeed soon.’