Death Sign On The Window Sill

Auckland Star, Volume LXIX, Issue 220, 17 September 1938, Page 8 (Supplement)

Death Sign On The Window Sill

SYNOPSIS.

7.m\,J , .I h \ Meond ,n ■ "•* series , ® ,h * * r »« of Louis Lemoine, French secret service ace, n th# O,M the murdered professor of chemistry.

CAREFULLY, very carefully, k ji" k»nd covered by a clean a Lemoine removed the flask from its cushion, the hot water bottle. Undoubtedly the inflated softness of the latter had broken the fall of the flask from the cabinet to the hard wash basin, where otherwise it would have smashed. The flask was identical with that used as a flower vase in the death room, even to certain small markings filed into the glass.

"I Innc mnnmonod Guichard," Louis •aid tci me. "When ho arrive* we must have this lla«k examined for fingerprint-, i lion it can bo turned over to Or. Locanl for analysis of it« content .s. lie'-* in Marseilles right now working mi another case. It is providential we don't have to wait till he get* down from Lyon*." Leinoinc tinned again to llertnni. "Vmi • re, I take it, a young man of regular ha Wit iv, | suppose so." "Then notneone knew," Lcmoine continued, "that you were in the haliit of opening that medicine cabinet every niorning. You do that, don't you?" "A» a matter of fact, I do. Naturally, for my toothbrush hangs there." "Hin. Then someone, it would appear, put that bottle in a leaning position, «gain*t the door of the cabinet, so that when the cabinet opened, the bottle would fall to the banin, break, releasing the gas. And it would appear that your lite was saved only by the presence in the wash-basin of your hot wator bot tic.' riertron shivered violently. "Mv the way, monsieur," Lemoinc •aid. "• I <1 you touch that glasw Hank at any time'.'" "No!" the yonnjj scientist exclaimed. "I nlcs. tliat i«, it was stolen from our laborarnry. I might have touched it there, without ever dreaming that it would homip day be used in an nttcmpt to kill me!"

be eafe for you to retire. When the police arrive, I ehall post a gendarme outside your door—for your safety, of course, monsieur." But as we were leaving Bertron's austerely furnished suite, Lemoine— who wa* ginjrerly carrying the glas* flask—stopped short. Lying on the floor, jtwt inside the door, was a £as mask! [.ciuoine stooped and ]>iokf<l it up. It was one of those equipped with a little tank to "digest" the pas. And it had a breathing tube grotesquely like an elephants trunk.

True Stories Of The Marseilles Secret Police By

Captain Eugene de Beck

No. VI. — Copyright.

"Thank you," said Lemoine. "It will "Ever see this before?" Lemoine asked. And Uertron tnrned, if tlint were possible, paler tlian before. "Yes—yes!" lie said. "Tt—it's mine! Someone t.oo?c it from the laboratory. I often use it there!" '"Thank you, monsieur," said Lemoine, jirimly. And with in one hand and jra* ma>k in the other, he led the way back to the professors bedroom. As we entered, younpr l'aquillon saw the mask. His eves dilated. He seemed on the point of collapse. Hut Lemoine paid no attention to him. He walked straight to one of those tall windows. "Will you open this, Eugene?" he requested. When I had done eo, Louis

j»laoe<l the flack very gently on the brond sill, outside the window. Then carefully he lowered the window—and everyone felt much better. We were now protected from whatever infernal gas that flask might contain. '"There!" paid Lemoine. "Xow I can watch that thing without letting it kill nie." He turned to Paquillon. 0 "You have seen that gas mask, monsieurf" "Yes," Paquillon whimpered. "It \va« used in my uncle's laboratory." "It was also used," said Louis Lemoine. "by your uncle'e murderer." He paused. "The murderer wore it into your uncle's bedroom. There, he uncorked hie flask of pan, placed the artificial flowers in it as if in a- vase, and put the original vase on the floor. Then he closed the bedroom door on his way out—and left the gas mask in the hall." "Xow—" sa id Lemoine. "Who did it —and why?" 'But why, Louis," 1 asked, "did the murderer leave the gas mask in the apai-tment?" Ihe solution of this case," Lemoine replied, "may well depend upon the answer to that question. A murder planned with such diabolical cummin — yet with this huge due left in plain view? I hat wa« no error on the murderer's unit. Eugene. It was surely At this point fluichard arrived and 0:1 his heels came the family physician, the fashionable ]>r. Halsalle. Telephoned Scientist Lemoine led Guichard to the window. Pointing to the scaled flask resting outside on the broad sill he murmured an explanation. (iuichard, mopping his brow, went immediately to telephone— as I correctly surmised —the famous Dr. Ldmond Locard, of Lyons headquarters, whose scientific methods have helped the police all over France to solve many a crime. And, incidentally, I am happy to say that the flask stayed just where it was until Locard arrived and took it awav. after which I breathed toueh more freciy!

.Tust before Ouiehard left the telephone, Lemoine looked down at the eill of that window. He exclaimed something I didn't catch. Then from the bureau he picked up a newspa|>er. He tore a picce from it —went back to the window sill and, using one piece of paper as a brush, began dusting a number of dead flieg from the sill to the other piece of paper.

Carefully Lemoine went to each of the four windows. On the gill of each he

found more dead flies. These he carefully collected, twisted them up in his piece of newspaper. Then, gravely, he handed those dead flics to Inspector (iuicha rd. "Evidence," he said, (iuichard looked at him suspiciously. Louis' penchant for playing harmless but irritating tricks on his associates was well known and he always did it with a straight face. l?ut (.iuichard took the flies just the same. "And now, monsieur," said Louie gently to the youth in the wine-coloured dressing gown, "do you suspect anyone ?" Paquillon hesitated —the barest fraction of a second. "Xo —oh, no!" he said. But his eyes faltered. Apparently ignoring this momentary uncertainty, Lemoine continued questioning him suavely. And these are the facts as Paquillon set them forth: Professor's Mode of Life Profe-sor de Montgalliard lived in this sumptuous apartment with the nephew ami (iervuU Bertron, his brilliant secretary;! sistant. whose name had been coupled with the older man's in the announcement of several important chemical discoveries. Also there was a middle-aged couple, servants who took care of the establishment. These two, however, had been absent for several days—on leave, visiting their native city of Metz, where an only sou was on duty with the military garrison.

"And then ; " continued the now-tremb-ling Paquillon, "there is Mile. Marguerite Girodin. She—she does not live here, however," he hastened to add.

"And who is Mile. Girodin?" Lemoine asked.

"She is—she was —my uncle's nurse." he faltered. And with Gallic tact, Lemoine forbore further questioning along that line, for the time being. But Giwchard, obtaining the young woman's address, immediately dispatched a plainclothes detective to summon mademoiselle.

"Who was in this apartment last night?" Lemoine asked Paquillon.

"Mile. Girodin, M. Bertron and I —the three of us."

"But I noticed that you were alone when we arrived. When did the others leave ?"

"M. Bertron left first," Paquillon replied. "For the last two n%rhts he has been working in the laboratory on an important formula. But to-night he was summoned to my uncle's bedside. That was about midnight."

Gervais Bertron had remained in the professor's bedroom for about two hours. Then he left the apartment. Paquillon had not seen him go,'but had heard the departing footfalls, and the opening and closing of the front door.

After another half-hour, Paquillon had heard Mile. Girodin, the nurse, leave. He knew her by the light, feminine footfalls.

"But why were you awake so late, monsieur?'" Lemoine asked.

"I have been making an inventory of my uncle's assets," said the young man. "He wanted to change his will."

At this, I pricked up my ears. So the wealthy scientist and vendor of poison gases was going to change his will! Would we, perhaps, find in this fact the motive behind this atrocious crime?

"Who are the beneficiaries of thd present will?" Louis asked.

"The estate is divided evenly, aside from minor bequests, among M. Bertron, Mile. Girodin and myself. If any of us dies inestate, his share goes »to the survivor, or survivors," the nephew declared. A fit of "trembling seized him.

"Proceed, monsieur," said Lemoine, quickly.

"Twice my uncle —who has been ill summoned me during the night. Each time he wanted a glass of water, which I fetched him. I—I—" the young man faltered.

"The second time," he said, "I went to the window. Outside in the street a man was looking up toward the apartment. He —"

"But, monsieur," Lemoine interrupted smoothly, "it was night. How could von see this man?"

' Oh, this happened after daybreak," said Paquillon,.;? "The sun was. well up."

"I take it all the windows were closed while your uncle slept." It was more of a statement of fact than a question by Lemoine.

"Oh, yes," replied Paquillon. "It was his habit to sleep with all windows closed. I opened that one"—and he pointed to the one open window—"when I discovered the body and realised that, while most of the volatile gas must have escaped, enough of it must still be in the room, for it made me quite ill."

"Thank you," said Lemoine. "Pro ceed, please."

And now an interruption occurred. The front door opened, and in came— "burst" would be the better word—a

strikingly beautiful woman. No need to ask if this was the nuree, Marguerite (Jirodin. The haunted look in her liquid black eyes, the pallor of her ivory-tinted face, her extreme agitation and finally her •words, all revealed this.

"Where is he ?" she asked. Her voice was low, sweet and husky. She looked down at the bed, her slender form erect and rigid, her arms stiff by her sides. She said nothing more, just stood there, her hands clenching and unclenching. Then she turned swiftly and faced Paquillon. "What happened T" she asked. Her voice was level but steely. And now a dramatic thing occurred. Paquillon rose, clutching that wine-*ilk dressing gown around him. Looking Marguerite Girodin fixedly in the eye, his face working convulsively, he pointed down to the floor. His lips moved, but no sound came. Everyone in the room followed the young men's finger as it pointed directly at—the gas mask. And then Paquillon collapsed into his chair. Guichard and I helped him to his bedroom. Dr. Halsalle remained to mini'/ter to him. (To be continued.)