The Hollow Needle | Page 9

morning."
"But that's impossible, because it was found last night in the park. If it
was found there, it must have been there; and, consequently, it must
have been bought before."
"The hatter told me it was bought this morning."
There was a moment of general bewilderment. The nonplussed
magistrate strove to understand. Suddenly, he started, as though struck
with a gleam of light:

"Fetch the cabman who brought us here this morning! The man who
drove the calash! Fetch him at once!"
The sergeant of gendarmes and his subordinate ran off to the stables. In
a few minutes, the sergeant returned alone.
"Where's the cabman?"
"He asked for food in the kitchen, ate his lunch and then--"
"And then--?"
"He went off."
"With his fly?"
"No. Pretending that he wanted to go and see a relation at Ouville, he
borrowed the groom's bicycle. Here are his hat and greatcoat."
"But did he leave bare-headed?"
"No, he took a cap from his pocket and put it on."
"A cap?"
"Yes, a yellow leather cap, it seems."
"A yellow leather cap? Why, no, we've got it here!"
"That's true, Monsieur le Juge d'Instruction, but his is just like it."
The deputy sniggered:
"Very funny! Most amusing! There are two caps--One, the real one,
which constituted our only piece of evidence, has gone off on the head
of the sham flyman! The other, the false one, is in your hands. Oh, the
fellow has had us nicely!"
"Catch him! Fetch him back!" cried M. Filleul. "Two of your men on

horseback, Sergeant Quevillon, and at full speed!"
"He is far away by this time," said the deputy.
"He can be as far as he pleases, but still we must lay hold of him."
"I hope so; but I think, Monsieur le Juge d'Instruction, that your efforts
should be concentrated here above all. Would you mind reading this
scrap of paper, which I have just found in the pocket of the coat?"
"Which coat?"
"The driver's."
And the deputy prosecutor handed M. Filleul a piece of paper, folded in
four, containing these few words written in pencil, in a more or less
common hand:
"Woe betide the young lady, if she has killed the governor!"
The incident caused a certain stir.
"A word to the wise!" muttered the deputy. "We are now forewarned."
"Monsieur le Comte," said the examining magistrate, "I beg you not to
be alarmed. Nor you either, mademoiselle. This threat is of no
importance, as the police are on the spot. We shall take every
precaution and I will answer for your safety. As for you, gentlemen. I
rely on your discretion. You have been present at this inquiry, thanks to
my excessive kindness toward the Press, and it would be making me an
ill return--"
He interrupted himself, as though an idea had struck him, looked at the
two young men, one after the other, and, going up to the first, asked:
"What paper do you represent, sir?"
"The Journal de Rouen."

"Have you your credentials?"
"Here."
The card was in order. There was no more to be said. M. Filleul turned
to the other reporter:
"And you, sir?"
"I?"
"Yes, you: what paper do you belong to?"
"Why, Monsieur le Juge d'Instruction, I write for a number of
papers--all over the place--
"Your credentials?"
"I haven't any."
"Oh! How is that?"
"For a newspaper to give you a card, you have to be on its regular
staff."
"Well?"
"Well, I am only an occasional contributor, a free-lance. I send articles
to this newspaper and that. They are published or declined according to
circumstances."
"In that case, what is your name? Where are your papers?"
"My name would tell you nothing. As for papers, I have none."
"You have no paper of any kind to prove your profession!"
"I have no profession."

"But look here, sir," cried the magistrate, with a certain asperity, "you
can't expect to preserve your incognito after introducing yourself here
by a trick and surprising the secrets of the police!"
"I beg to remark, Monsieur le Juge d'Instruction, that you asked me
nothing when I came in, and that therefore I had nothing to say.
Besides, it never struck me that your inquiry was secret, when
everybody was admitted--including even one of the criminals!"
He spoke softly, in a tone of infinite politeness. He was quite a young
man, very tall, very slender and dressed without the least attempt at
fashion, in a jacket and trousers both too small for him. He had a pink
face like a girl's, a broad forehead topped with close-cropped hair, and
a scrubby and ill-trimmed fair beard. His bright eyes gleamed with
intelligence. He seemed not in the least embarrassed and wore a
pleasant smile, free from any shade of banter.
M. Filleul