‘What are you talking about?’ Rahn said. His vexation was not mollified. ‘Are you telling me you weren’t kidnapped – that this has been an elaborate hoax?’
‘Let me start at the beginning. Yesterday morning, when we decided to rest before seeing Abbé Grassaud, there was a knock at the door. It was Inspecteur Beliere. He told me he had gone to Bugarach to see Mademoiselle Cros to ask her some questions about the abbé’s death. When he got there, he said the house was open and the maid was missing, as was the mademoiselle. Every room had been ransacked. It was obvious that whoever had done it was looking for something or someone, and the inspector said that he was very concerned for her safety, not to mention ours. He asked me what I knew about the mademoiselle. I told him we’d only just met on the day the abbé died. He then told me he was investigating La Cagoule because the police had been informed of a plot to assassinate the president and that there were various secret societies in the south involved. In light of this, I could no longer refrain from telling him about the list, and what we had discovered concerning Le Serpent Rouge and the key to completing it.’ Deodat’s eyes shone and his cheeks were flushed with exhilaration in recounting it. ‘And so I gave him the list, knowing full well that we had made another one. He wanted me to come with him and asked where you might be; I told him you had gone to Espéraza with the housekeeper and that I would leave you a note where to find me.’
‘That was the note?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you made it sound like you were kidnapped!’
‘And I was.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You see, at this point I already knew that the inspector was suspect.’
‘What?’
‘Yes, he was an imposter!’
‘How did you know that?’
‘After you went to bed I couldn’t rest. I had suspicions about Beliere, so I called the Paris judiciaire and they told me that a certain Beliere had been sent to Carcassonne. When I asked them to describe the man they said he was tall, rather thin and balding. As you know, this description does not fit with our short, squat, Inspecteur Beliere.’
‘But then, what made you think he wasn’t the real thing in first place?’
‘In all my years as a magistrate I have seen many inspectors, but I have never seen one who wears a suit that looks like it has been slept in—’
‘Is that all?’
‘But you haven’t let me finish, dear Rahn! A crumpled suit and the most brilliantly polished shoes. Such polarities and enigmas do draw my attention. I then remembered something, which you will recall I mentioned to you. He was in possession of a military . . .’
‘A what?’
‘Le Francais Model 28. A revolver specifically designed for the French army.’
‘I still don’t see!’
‘Of course you wouldn’t. Only those who have some knowledge of guns, the army and the police would know. You see, the army and the police had both decided to pass on the design of that gun and none of those revolvers were ever taken into service. You will only find them in the hands of civilians nowadays.’
‘Remarkable!’ Rahn said.
‘Observation is paramount, Rahn, as Sherlock Holmes often tells Watson. Seeing is one thing, observing another! Now, once I knew he was not the same man who was sent here, I realised that he must have done away with the real Inspecteur Beliere and taken his place. So, I called the Carcassonne gendarmerie, as I wanted to know if the man had ever arrived at all, because this would tell me one of two things: if he never arrived then he must have been killed en route, and the police should be looking for him if they are not also in on it; if he had arrived and he was the real Inspecteur Beliere, he might be completely unware that another man was impersonating him. So I called and asked to know the whereabouts of our Inspecteur Beliere and they said he was not in . . . that he was on the way to an address – my address! When they gave me his description I knew.’
‘Oh!’ Rahn said. ‘Did you tell the police to come as soon as possible?’
‘No. Are you mad?’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I didn’t know if I could trust them. At this stage I thought the gendarmes might be in on it too. So I went upstairs to wake you and to take you to the Tourster. But that blow to your head must have done more damage than we had estimated because you got up like a sleepwalker, and it took me quite a time to get you to the barn. By then I could hear the sound of cars coming. I told you to get into the trunk and, because you were in some ways like a person who is hypnotised, you did so without complaint and I closed the lid, but only slightly, just enough to make it seem closed. I thought when you woke up you could just push the trunk lid open to get out. I had no time to escape with you, you see, so I did what was necessary. You must play your cards as best you can when the stakes are high. I went round the back of the house then, and entered it by the back door, and in a moment our fake inspector was knocking at the front door. Well, I knew that in the trunk you were safe for the time being and, if it came to the worst – if they did away with me – you would find the key before they did!’