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Updated: May 8, 2025
She spoke briefly of her humble life with the Bonnetons, of her work at Notre-Dame, of the occasional visits of her supposed cousin, the wood carver; then she came to the recent tragic happenings, to her flight from Groener, to the kindness of M. Pougeot, to the trick of the ring that lured her from the commissary's home, and finally to the moment when, half dead with fright, she was thrust into that cruel chamber and left there with M. Coquenil to perish.
Again Pougeot turned to the waiter. "What sort of a woman was she? A lady or or not?" Joseph clucked his tongue admiringly. "She was a lady, all right. And a stunner! Eyes and shoulders and um-m!" He described imaginary feminine curves with the unction of a male dressmaker. "Oh, there's one thing more!" "You can tell me later. Now, doctor, we'll look at the room.
Before midnight Coquenil was in raging delirium with a temperature of one hundred and five, and the next morning, when Pougeot called, the doctor looked grave. They were in for a siege of brain fever with erysipelas to be fought off, if possible. Poor Coquenil! His body was in torture and his mind in greater torture.
Then she went downstairs at least I suppose she did, for she never came back." "Did anyone see her leave the hotel?", demanded Pougeot sharply, looking at the others. "It's extraordinary," answered the doctor, "but no one seems to have seen this woman go out. M. Gibelin made inquiries, but he could learn nothing except that she really went to the telephone booth. The girl there remembers her."
And presently, even Pougeot, in spite of his preoccupation, began to realize that there was something peculiar about this night promenade, for as they reached a crossroad, M. Paul ordered the chauffeur to turn into it and go ahead as fast as he pleased. The chauffeur hesitated, muttered some words of protest, and then obeyed. "We are getting right out into wild country," remarked the commissary.
"It's you, M. Paul, who have done good work this night," chuckled Tignol. "Eh! Eh! What a lesson for Gibelin!" "The brute!" muttered Pougeot. Then they turned to the commissary's report of his investigation, Coquenil listening with intense concentration, interrupting now and then with a question or to consult the rough plan drawn by Pougeot.
"Yes, sir, discharged from the Paris detective force for refusing to arrest a murderer that's how the accusation read." "But it wasn't true?" "Judge for yourself. It was the case of a poacher who killed a guard. I don't suppose you remember it?" M. Pougeot thought a moment he prided himself on remembering everything. "Down near Saumur, wasn't it?" "Exactly.
"Yes, sir, it was open about a foot some of the guests wanted air." "How did you stand as you listened to the speaker? Show me." M. Pougeot led Joseph to the banquet-room door. "Like this," answered the waiter, and he placed himself so that his back was turned to Number Six. "So you would not have seen anyone who might have come out of Number Six at that time or gone into Number Six?"
Then it was a matter of temporary relief at the nearest pharmacy, of waiting until Pougeot, summoned by telephone, could arrive with all haste in an automobile. An hour later M. Paul and Alice were in clean, cool beds at a private hospital near the commissary's house, with nurses and doctors bending over them.
"But I want you on the case," insisted the commissary. "I'll be on the case, all right." "I'll telephone headquarters at once about this," insisted Pougeot. "When shall I see you again?" Coquenil eyed his friend mysteriously. "I think you'll see me before the night is over. Now get to work, and," he smiled mockingly, "give M. Gibelin the assurance of my distinguished consideration."
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