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Updated: May 6, 2025
But if my suspicions are unfounded, why has not the stranger come forward? There has been a lot about the affair in the papers." "Yes," I said. "It certainly appears strange, for there can be no cause for secrecy now that the Baron is dead, even if some great financial transaction had been involved." "My master often received very queer visitors," said Folcker.
I questioned the valet, Folcker, still further, telling him that I had come especially from London to endeavour to elucidate the truth concerning his master's death. He was devoted to the Baron, and was highly incensed at the attitude taken by the Dutch police. "I will give you every assistance, sir," he replied. "Excellent," I said. "I would very much like to go to the Baron's house.
Folcker says that when his master returned he took the gloves from the pocket of the linen coat and placed them on the table in the hall as was his habit. It was only when the Baron was going out again that he put on the left-hand one, and then suddenly drew it off and rubbed his fingers.
By virtue of the wide ramifications of the firm by which Graham was employed, I knew that it would be an easy matter, hence I was not surprised when next day he rang me up on the telephone to my hotel and told me that he had been able to find the valet Folcker who would call upon me at six o'clock that evening.
"And an Italian doctor named Moroni?" Folcker shook his head, as he replied: "I have no recollection of an Italian doctor. We were in Florence only two weeks." "Of course you know Mr. De Gex's butler, a man named Horton?" I asked. "No, the man I know is named Farmer. I haven't been to Stretton Street for over a year." It would therefore appear that Horton was a new servant.
"After finishing his dinner the Baron smoked one of his Petroff cigarettes which were especially made for him in Odessa, and then calling me, he asked for his coat and told me to ring up for the car," Folcker said. "He finished his cigarette and a glass of kümmel, at the same time scanning the evening newspaper. All the time he had been eating, however, he seemed in a very angry mood.
We stopped before a great white house, square and rather inartistic, standing back behind very high iron railings, to which we were admitted by an elderly man-servant who was in charge of the place now that its owner was dead. Folcker showed me his master's handsome dressing-room which had been left practically as it was on the night of his tragic end.
Suddenly he tore it off again, and rubbing his fingers together impatiently, said: 'I forgot, Folcker! I'm going to the opera, give me some white gloves. They were in the drawer yonder," the valet said, pointing to a great old carved Flemish cupboard. "So I got them out and handed them to him.
The allegations of the valet, Folcker, strengthened my suspicions, hence I travelled from London and pursued my own independent inquiries, which have resulted in the discovery of the little piece of blade inside the glove which the Baron wore when he went to interview his mysterious visitor at The Hague."
As I reflected upon all the details as related to me by the valet, Folcker, I suddenly recollected that the Baron's strange visitor, the man who must have placed that sharp scrap of razor-blade within his glove at the moment when the unsuspicious victim had gone outside to speak with his servant, was described as a man with a red face and a dark moustache.
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