Part 8 (2/2)
”Has any one come from the detective office?”
”Yes, Monsieur le Prefet; Sergeant Mazeroux is here.”
”Please have him shown in.”
And, turning to Perenna:
”Sergeant Mazeroux is one of our smartest detectives. I used to employ him together with that poor Verot when I wanted any one more than ordinarily active and sharp. He will be of great use to you.”
Sergeant Mazeroux entered. He was a short, lean, wiry man, whose drooping moustache, heavy eyelids, watery eyes and long, lank hair gave him a most doleful appearance.
”Mazeroux,” said the Prefect, ”you will have heard, by this time, of your comrade Verot's death and of the horrible circ.u.mstances attending it. We must now avenge him and prevent further crimes. This gentleman, who knows the case from end to end, will explain all that is necessary. You will work with him and report to me to-morrow morning.”
This meant giving a free hand to Don Luis Perenna and relying on his power of initiative and his perspicacity. Don Luis bowed:
”I thank you, Monsieur le Prefet. I hope that you will have no reason to regret the trust which you are good enough to place in me.”
And, taking leave of M. Desmalions and Maitre Lepertuis, he went out with Sergeant Mazeroux.
As soon as they were outside, he told Mazeroux what he knew. The detective seemed much impressed by his companion's professional gifts and quite ready to be guided by his views.
They decided first to go to the Cafe du Pont-Neuf. Here they learned that Inspector Verot, who was a regular customer of the place, had written a long letter there that morning. And the waiter remembered that a man at the next table, who had entered the cafe at almost the same time as the inspector, had also asked for writing-paper and called twice for yellow envelopes.
”That's it,” said Mazeroux to Don Luis. ”As you suspected, one letter has been subst.i.tuted for the other.”
The description given by the waiter was pretty explicit: a tall man, with a slight stoop, wearing a reddish-brown beard cut into a point, a tortoise-sh.e.l.l eyegla.s.s with a black silk ribbon, and an ebony walking-stick with a handle shaped like a swan's head.
”That's something for the police to go upon,” said Mazeroux.
They were leaving the cafe when Don Luis stopped his companion.
”One moment.”
”What's the matter?”
”We've been followed.”
”Followed? What next? And by whom, pray?”
”No one that matters. I know who it is and I may as well settle his business and have done with it. Wait for me. I shall be back; and I'll show you some fun. You shall see one of the 'nuts,' I promise you.”
He returned in a minute with a tall, thin man with his face set in whiskers. He introduced him:
”M. Mazeroux, a friend of mine, Senor Caceres, an attache at the Peruvian Legation. Senor Caceres took part in the interview at the Prefect's just now. It was he who, on the Peruvian Minister's instructions, collected the doc.u.ments bearing upon my ident.i.ty.” And he added gayly: ”So you were looking for me, dear Senor Caceres. Indeed, I expected, when we left the police office--”
The Peruvian attache made a sign and pointed to Sergeant Mazeroux.
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