A Nest of Spies. Marcel Allain

which had led him to telephone to Headquarters.

      "You have done well," said Juve. "Have you the portfolio of this dead man?"

      "Here it is, my friend."

      Juve opened it.

      "If you will allow it, Monsieur, I am going to make a complete list of the contents. This list I shall leave with you. I shall take a copy: that I shall deposit at the office of the Chief of Staff, obtaining a receipt for it. This will relieve both you and myself of all further responsibility on this head."

      For some moments Juve and the superintendent occupied themselves in going over the papers of the dead man. Suddenly the detective got up, and, holding a paper in his hand, began walking up and down the room.

      "You have read that?" he asked, turning to the superintendent.

      "What is it? No."

      "Read it!"

      The superintendent read:

      "Inventory of the documents which were submitted to me by the Second Bureau of the Staff Headquarters, for which I have signed a receipt, and I have undertaken to return and deliver them up to the Second Bureau of the Staff Headquarters, Monday, November 7th, when given a receipt to that effect."

      "Well, what of it?"

      "Well," replied Juve. "Compare the documents given on this list with those we have found in this portfolio … they tally." …

      "Of course. That only proves, I imagine, that this officer died at the very moment when he was on the way to his office to return the papers entrusted to him. What do you see surprising in that?"

      Juve shook his head. "I see, Monsieur, that what I feared is true: yes, this is certainly the list of documents contained in this portfolio, but." …

      "But, one is missing!"

      The two men checked the papers of Captain Brocq. Juve was right. There was a document missing—Number Six.

      "Whew!" murmured the superintendent. "How are we to know whether this document has been dropped in the taxi, or has already been returned by the captain, or whether." …

      "Or whether it has been stolen from him," finished Juve.

      The supposition which the detective had put into words was so grave, so terrible, so weighty in its consequence that the superintendent cried, in a shaking voice:

      "Robbed! Robbed! But by whom? Where? How? On the way from the Place de l'Étoile here? While the body was being brought to the police station? … Juve, it's incredible!"

      Juve was walking up and down, up and down. "I don't like affairs of this sort, in which officers are involved, and most particularly officers connected with the Second Bureau of the Military Staff: they require the most careful handling. … You never know where they will lead. These officers are, owing to their functions, the masters of all the military defences of France. … Confound it!"

      Juve stopped short. "You had better let me see the body of this poor fellow."

      "Certainly!" …

      The superintendent led Juve towards one of the rooms, where the corpse of Captain Brocq was: it had been laid down on the floor. Pious hands had lighted a mortuary candle, and, in view of the position held by the dead man, two of the police staff were keeping watch and ward until someone came to claim the body of the deceased.

      Juve examined the corpse. "A fine fellow!" he said quietly.

      He turned to the superintendent.

      "You told me just now that Prof. Barrell chanced to be present at the moment of death?"

      "That is so."

      "What did he suppose was the cause of death?"

      The superintendent smiled. "Now you have it! Possibly you can throw light on it, my dear Juve, for I could hardly make head or tail of his diagnostic. The professor claims that death is due to a phenomenon of inhibition. What does that mean exactly?"

      Juve shrugged his shoulders.

      "Inhibition! … Peuh! … It is a learned word—very learned!" …

      "Which means to say?" … pressed the superintendent.

      "It does not mean anything."

      Juve's tone was a mixture of contempt and anger. The superintendent was staggered. Juve's anger increased.

      "It does not mean anything," he repeated. "Inhibition! Inhibition! It is the term reserved for deaths that are unexplained and inexplicable: it is the term with which science covers herself when she does not wish to confess her ignorance."

      The magistrate was smiling now.

      "So then, Juve, you conclude that Professor Barrell has declared that this officer had died through inhibition because, in fact, he was ignorant of the cause of death?"

      "Exactly!" snapped Juve.

      He was kneeling on the floor, bending over the body. Slowly, minutely, he was examining it with his keen eyes, by the flickering light of the mortuary candle.

      He had examined successively the face of the dead man, then the arms, the trunk, the shoulders, the whole body. He did not utter a word.

      "What are you looking for in particular, Juve?"

      "The cause of this inhibition," replied the detective, who pronounced the word with unconcealed anger and resentment. He seemed to harbour some subtle rancour regarding the doctor. Suddenly he got up and, turning to the policeman, commanded:

      "Undress this body!"

      The superintendent interposed.

      "What for?"

      "It will be useful for your report."

      "Come, now! In what way?"

      "For that," said Juve, pointing a finger at the officer's short coat. …

      "That? How that? … I don't see anything," protested the superintendent.

      Juve knelt down again, and made a sign to the superintendent to do likewise.

      "Look, Monsieur! Just bend down and look at this tiny graze on the cloth."

      "Yes! … Well?"

      "Does that not tell you anything?"

      "No it does not."

      Juve rose and repeated his order. "Unclothe this corpse!"

      Then, turning to the superintendent, he added:

      "What that tells me is, that this man has been killed by a shot from a gun or a revolver."

      "Oh, come, now!"

      "You will see." …

      "The garment is not pierced." …

      Juve began to smile.

      "Monsieur," said he, "you must know that arms of high penetrating power, firing projectiles of small diameter, grooved projectiles, cause only the slightest graze in the materials they pass through: the damage is almost imperceptible. Numerous experiments have demonstrated this. You see the passage of the projectile is so rapid, its gyratory movement so accelerated, that, in some way, the threads of the fabric are not broken: they are only pushed aside. They come together again after the passage of the ball, and unless a very careful examination is made, one would never know that a projectile had perforated the material."

      The two policemen were undressing the corpse.

      Scarcely had they undone the waistcoat than the shirt of the unfortunate man was seen to have a spot of blood on it, in the region of the heart.

      "See," cried Juve. "It is just as I said: a ball of small diameter, propelled by a formidable power of penetration, has caused immediate death, producing a