Sherlock Holmes and the Boulevard Assassin (15 page)

‘And asks for the paper back?’ said Dubuque with some derision.

‘Well – perhaps he did not want Huret’s crest to be seen? It would link the two of them!’

‘You certainly have the writer’s imagination, my friend! Did you ever read that curious history of a flea? Telling how he jumped from a beggar to a king, to the bosom of a beautiful woman, from this one to that one? Your tale is like that, it is picaresque – the slip of paper is here, it is there – ’

‘Well, now it is here!’ said I hotly. ‘If I cannot say precisely how it came to be in Duclos’s house, then at least I can see that it proves two things. First, that Huret wrote to Duclos; and I link that with the undoubted fact that Huret’s niece was at pains to find out what she could about me. Second, that Duclos has been at this Hôtel St Petersburg, at which you say Huret is a regular visitor. Can you dispute either of those points, pray?’

Dubuque shrugged. ‘I do not need to dispute them, Doctor! No, my old friend, there is far too much coincidence here for my simple tastes! Why, the next thing you will tell me is that Monsieur Huret plans some attempt on the Minister of Justice!’

‘And why do you say that?’ asked Holmes. ‘I understood you to say that this Huret is quite above suspicion?’

‘But so he is! No, I meant only that the next thing that the good doctor here will be making a story out of is the fact that the meeting between the Minister and Monsieur Huret is being held at the Hôtel St Petersburg – ’

‘What?’ cried Holmes, Jupin and I all together.

‘But of course! Did I not say? But it is all – what do you say? – open and above board. We have a man in the hotel.’

‘One man only?’ said Holmes.

‘It is enough – the meeting is secret – the hotel is discreet – ’

‘And yet the hotel is one that is used by Duclos,’ said Holmes. He leaned forward, and spoke earnestly. ‘Do you not see, Dubuque, that even if this Monsieur Huret is not a criminal, there is still a danger? Duclos at any rate is, we know, a criminal – he may plan to kill both of them, the Minister
and
Huret!’

‘That is true!’ said Dubuque. ‘I had not thought of that!’

‘At what hour is this meeting arranged?’ asked Holmes, consulting his watch.

‘Why, now, more or less. The luncheon is ordered, as I said, and then they will talk.’

‘We must get to this Hôtel St Petersburg at once,’ said Holmes with decision.

‘And what of the other matter? What of the examining magistrate?’ Dubuque wanted to know.

‘Look here, Dubuque,’ said Holmes, ‘you and I have known each other for – what – ten years? You know that I am no thief, that there is a perfectly simple explanation for this nonsense with the diamonds. But, as I understand it, Watson here has uncovered some connection between Constantine Duclos, whom we know is a villain, and this man Huret. Am I correct?’

‘Quite right,’ I said. ‘And a further connection between Duclos and the Hôtel St Petersburg. And now Dubuque says that Huret is meeting the Minister of Justice at that same hotel!’

Holmes nodded. ‘Just so! Does it not seem, Dubuque, that our first task is to visit this hotel to ensure that no mischief is planned, or in progress? If Watson is wrong, and Huret is innocent – if I am wrong, and nobody is in any danger – and you shall be the sole judge of that, my friend – then so be it. I shall immediately submit to being taken before all the magistrates you wish. Jupin will do the same. You know I shall not try to run away, or anything of that sort. What say you?’

Dubuque thought about this. ‘You really believe that some crime is planned, then?’

‘Well,’ said Holmes, ‘the whole world knows that the President was assassinated only a week ago! I, for one, would not want the Minister of Justice to meet the same fate! Or this Monsieur Huret, if he is an innocent man! Were it not for the assassination, I would perhaps not be so anxious, I might share your scepticism – but, as it is – ’

‘Besides,’ cried Jupin, ‘it is for France, Monsieur!’

‘You are right, of course,’ said Dubuque, coming to a decision. ‘We shall go to the Hôtel St Petersburg, we shall ensure that the Minister is safe! That, at least, we can do without attracting any opprobrium; after all, that is our job.’ He looked at his
gendarmes
. ‘One of you stay here, and arrest anyone who may come to the house. The other, come with us.’ Somehow or other we all crowded into Dubuque’s cab, and set off for the Place Vendôme.

THIRTEEN

On the way, I gave Holmes an outline – necessarily brief, for the Hôtel St Petersburg was no great distance away, and the driver was taking us along at a brisk pace – of what had happened whilst he was
hors
de
combat
.

‘Why did you not show me the piece of paper when first you found it?’ was his first question.

‘Well, I thought it was nothing very important at first – just a laundry list! And then the book it was in – a bit dubious, Holmes! And then – well, then I’m afraid I rather forgot about it,’ I concluded lamely.

‘I see. And then of course there was this Mademoiselle Huret?’

‘It all seemed perfectly above board, Holmes! Positively innocent!’

‘As my old nurse would have said, it was not on its own there!’

‘And as mine would have said, every cloud has a silver lining, Holmes!’

He laughed. ‘You may be right, Doctor. Although, by the way, it is most unlikely that the young lady is actually his niece! Well, for all my quibbling, you really did very well. You have found this Huret, whilst I was lying helpless, bound and gagged!’

Basking in this unaccustomed praise, but starting to share some of Dubuque’s doubts, I said, ‘That is, if Huret is truly the man that we seek!’

‘And if he is not, if he is guiltless, then he may well be in danger, and we may save his life! You found me, did you not? You tracked down Constantine, after all, found his house! And you seem to have performed the quite considerable feat of turning Monsieur Jupin here away from his evil ways and persuading him to work with us!’

‘Yes,’ said Dubuque thoughtfully, ‘it is a puzzle, that!’

‘Monsieur – ’ began Jupin, hurt.

Holmes held up a hand and laughed. ‘We had agreed to an amnesty! Let us first – ’ He broke off as we turned a corner. ‘Ah, here we are!’

The Hôtel St Petersburg was tucked away discreetly down a side street. It was somewhat larger than I had expected, but then I recollected that all the rooms were suites, and that there were rooms for meetings, private dining rooms and the like. There was an inconspicuous brass plate beside the door, and a uniformed doorman beside the brass plate. The man stepped forward as Dubuque got down, but then seemed taken aback to see the
gendarme
.

Dubuque held up his police pass. ‘Where is the manager?’

‘Why – the office, Monsieur – behind the reception!’ stammered the doorman.

Dubuque led us inside, past the startled receptionist, and knocked in a peremptory fashion upon the manager’s door. When the manager appeared, Dubuque showed his credentials, and asked, ‘Where is the Minister of Justice? And Monsieur Huret?’

‘In a private room, Monsieur!’

‘Take us there at once!’

‘But, Monsieur!’ The manager gestured at the
gendarme
. ‘I beg you to be discreet! The hotel – the patrons – the reputation – ’

‘The devil!’ cried Holmes. ‘Where is the Minister?’

‘This way!’ The manager set off almost at a run.

The rest of us were hard on his heels, but I was slightly ahead of the others. We turned a corner, and there, lounging against a door, I saw – who but Duclos! He saw me, too, and turned at once, dashed into the room, and closed the door after him. A
gendarme
who had been standing in the corridor stood to attention as our little group reached him.

‘There!’ I cried. ‘Was that not Duclos? Constantine Duclos?’

‘Indeed, Monsieur!’ stammered the
gendarme
.

‘But he is an aide,’ cried the manager, ‘a secretary of some sort, to Monsieur Huret! Messieurs, will you not tell me what the matter may be – ’

‘They are in there, Holmes!’ said I, pointing at the door through which Duclos had just gone. I took out my revolver as I spoke.

‘Wait!’ It was Dubuque who spoke. He stood with his back to the door, preventing our going any further. To the manager, he said, ‘The Minister of Justice is in here?’

‘Yes, Monsieur.’

Dubuque looked undecided.

Holmes said, ‘Dubuque, the Minister may well be in that room – but so is one of the biggest villains in Paris!’

‘Perhaps two,’ I added.

Dubuque straightened his back, and pulled at his waistcoat to tidy it. ‘Very well.’ He gave me a grim smile. ‘My job, my pension – they are in your hands, Doctor!’ and he tapped upon the door and opened it.

‘What is this?’ There was only one man in the room, and he stood up as we entered. I recognized the sturdy figure and the black beard of the Minister of Justice, whose photograph I had seen in a popular newspaper not ten days before, when the President’s assassination was the only news which mattered.

‘A thousand pardons, Monsieur.’

‘Is that Dubuque? What is wrong?’

‘Nothing, I trust, Monsieur.’ Dubuque glanced round the room. ‘Was Monsieur Huret not with you? It is him we wished to see.’

‘His secretary, Duclos, called him away – some urgent message.’

‘They left through this door, I take it?’ asked Holmes, darting across the room to a second door.

‘They did. And who may you be, Messieurs?’ asked the Minister with a frown.

‘My name is Sherlock Holmes. Doctor Watson, Monsieur Arsène Jupin.’

‘Ah! I have heard of you – ’ the Minister frowned. ‘But there was a
dossier
, a report – some trouble at a jeweller’s shop? And Monsieur Jupin – well!’

‘We are here to prevent a worse crime than petty theft,’ said Holmes grandly. He asked the manager, ‘Where does this other door lead?’

‘Why, to another room, Monsieur. And from thence to the corridor, along which we have just come.’

‘Dubuque, you and your men all know Huret and Constantine – or Duclos, I suppose I should say – by sight? Yes? Well, get after them – they must be arrested without delay.’

‘And Monsieur the Minister?’ asked Dubuque.

‘I shall answer for his safety.’

Dubuque nodded, and hastened away with the
gendarmes
after him.

The Minister looked at Holmes. ‘It looks as if my luncheon arrangements may have to be cancelled,’ said he ruefully. ‘Unless, that is, you would care to join me, and explain something of what is happening? For I confess I am at a complete loss. Doctor? Monsieur Jupin?’

‘Thank you,’ said Holmes. ‘Although I fear I scarcely know more than Your Excellency! Perhaps Watson and Jupin here will be kind enough to explain to both of us!’

‘Please sit down,’ said the Minister, waving his hand at the table and chairs. There was a tap at the door, and a waiter, his face obscured by a silver tray held on his shoulder, looked in.

‘Ah, you may serve the meal at once,’ the Minister told him. ‘There will, however, be four of us, not two, so you had better bring more plates and so forth.’

The waiter gave a sort of awkward bow, and continued into the room. Holmes looked at him curiously. ‘Did you not hear – Watson! Quick!’

I saw Holmes shove the Minister to one side; I saw the ‘waiter’ produce a revolver and heard the report as he fired; and then I picked up the nearest object, a water jug, and flung it at the waiter. It knocked the tray from his hand, and brought him to his knees, and before he could get to his feet again Jupin was upon him. He fought like the very devil, but Holmes and I joined the fray, and between us we subdued him, just as Dubuque and his men returned, with the man we had known as ‘Constantine’ between them.

The Minister, uninjured but very much astonished by what had happened, got to his feet in his turn and brushed his coat down. He took a close look at the waiter.

‘Why,’ said he, astounded. ‘Monsieur Huret? But what – why – ’

‘Why did he shoot at you?’ said Holmes. ‘Because he plans to take over the government of France. Why is he dressed as a waiter? Now, that is interesting.’ He went over to Huret, and looked him up and down. ‘We have not had the pleasure of a formal introduction,’ said he. ‘But I did know that you were a master of disguise. Indeed, I believe that you actually had the nerve to impersonate me, on one notable occasion! On that occasion, although I was able to spoil your plans, I was unable to see you arrested. I must say that I was fooled for a moment by your waiter’s costume. And I must compliment you on the quick-witted way in which you decided to assume it.’

He moved on, and looked at “Constantine” next. ‘And you, Monsieur Constantine – or is it Duclos? We do keep bumping into each other, do we not? But I fear that this will be almost the last time. The next time we see each other it will be across a courtroom – and then it will indeed be one last
adieu
.’

The
gendarmes
led the two villains away, and the Minister shook his head. ‘I am still at a loss as to what has happened,’ said he. ‘But I evidently owe you my thanks, Monsieur Holmes – not to speak of my life! And you too, Dubuque – and Doctor Watson – and Monsieur Jupin – but where
is
Monsieur Jupin?’ he added, looking round the room.

‘Jupin?’ Holmes looked round. ‘Ah, well,’ said he, ‘Jupin is evidently a modest, self-effacing fellow who shrinks from too much publicity!’

‘Or from too close an association with the Minister of Justice, perhaps?’ added the Minister, a twinkle in his eye. ‘Perhaps we could find another restaurant, and discuss the matter more fully – for I confess that the St Petersburg is a little too lively for my taste just now!’

‘Things should be a little quieter now, though, Your Excellency!’ said Holmes.

Dubuque nodded agreement. ‘All’s well, Monsieur,’ said he. ‘We even have the diamonds!’ and he patted his coat pockets. Then he patted them again, and his face fell.

‘The diamonds?’ asked Holmes.

‘The diamonds!’ said Dubuque. ‘The devil!’

‘Jupin!’ said I, and we looked at one another for a long moment. Then Dubuque swore most foully, turned and ran out of the room.

That is almost the end of my tale. Except that, as we left the Hôtel St Petersburg in a bunch, the criminals between us – much to the scandal of the manager and the doorman, I may add – I noticed a carriage across the road. And in the carriage, a young woman, blonde, attractive – Marie! Perhaps I should have spoken; perhaps Holmes’s scurrilous surmise had been correct. But I remained silent, and if I chose to believe that she
was
his niece, well, I cannot see that it did any real harm.

Holmes and I had a cab to ourselves on the way to the Palais de Justice, and he leaned across to me. ‘I have a good many questions for you,’ said he.

‘I fear I have but few answers,’ I told him, ‘for a good deal of it has been over my head! Jupin, and so on – ’

‘You spotted him, of course?’ said Holmes. ‘He was standing opposite the hotel when we left.’

‘Jupin? Was he, indeed? No, I never saw him! Why did you not say something, Holmes? Dubuque was almost frantic!’

‘Oh, I could not begin to tell you. Sentiment, perhaps?’

‘No place for sentiment in detection, Holmes!’ I told him sternly.

‘Of course not, Watson!’ And he leaned back, and laughed heartily.