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The man had crossed the Boulevard Richard-Wallace and was turning into the Boulevard Maillot. He was walking pretty fast, with his head up, gayly twirling his stick. He lit a cigarette. At the end of the Boulevard Maillot, the man passed the octroi and entered Paris. The railway station of the outer circle was close by.
Well, I was saying, the deputy chief had learnt that the woman who used to go to Gaston Sauverand's at Neuilly you know, the house on the Boulevard Richard-Wallace was fair and very good looking, and that her name was Florence. She even used to stay the night sometimes." "You lie! You lie!" hissed Perenna. All his spite was reviving.
He continued: "At the corner of the street down which I turned after outdistancing the Prefect's men on the Boulevard Richard-Wallace, Florence saved me just as I believed that all was lost. Florence had known everything for a fortnight past. She learnt the news of the double murder from the papers, those papers which she used to read out to you, and which you discussed with her.
However, he mastered himself. After all, there was nothing to prove that this half of a walking-stick was really that which had been seen in Gaston Sauverand's hands and which Sauverand had carried away by mistake. "I have the other half on me," said the Prefect of Police, replying to the unspoken objection. "Deputy Chief Weber himself picked it up on the Boulevard Richard-Wallace. Here it is."
A group consisting of Deputy Chief Detective Weber, Chief Inspector Ancenis, Sergeant Mazeroux, three inspectors, and the Neuilly commissary of police stood outside the gate of No. 8 Boulevard Richard-Wallace. "It's time to make a move," said Weber. "The housekeeper is making signals to us from the window: the joker's dressing." "Why not nab him when he comes out?" objected Mazeroux.
He went along the Avenue de Madrid on foot and turned down the Boulevard Richard-Wallace, opposite the Bois de Boulogne. Mazeroux was waiting for him in front of a small three-storied house standing at the back of a courtyard contained within the very high walls of the adjoining property. "Is this number eight?" "Yes, Chief, but tell me how "
I saw the 'B' of 'boulevard, and the 'R' and the English 'W' of Richard-Wallace. And so I came to the Boulevard Richard-Wallace, And that, my dear sir, explains the milk in the cocoanut." Mazeroux seemed a little doubtful. "And what do you think, Chief?" "I think nothing. I am looking about. I am building up a theory on the first basis that offers a probable theory.
Just then Mazeroux rang up and asked to speak to him. He rushed to a little telephone box which his predecessor had fitted up on the first floor, in a dark recess that communicated only with his study, and switched on the electric light. "Is that you, Alexandre?" "Yes, Chief. I'm speaking from a wine shop near the house on the Boulevard Richard-Wallace." "What about our man?"
It was to save me from Lupin that she let down the iron curtain in front of him, at the risk of an accident, and took a taxi to the corner of the Boulevard Richard-Wallace, where she arrived too late to warn me, as the detectives had already entered my house, but in time to screen me from their pursuit.
Ill luck having brought me across Hippolyte Fauville's path in the course of one of my walks in the Bois, I took the precaution of changing my abode and went to live in the little house on the Boulevard Richard-Wallace, where Florence came to see me several times.
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