‘They’re policemen like me, but we’re not from the same force. Oh, no! I take care of criminal investigations, they look after political matters and I’ve no idea where you fit in ... They work for Joseph I, I work for the people of Paris, and that’s not the same thing at all. This one murder has set off a triple investigation. And

to think that when a washerwoman is stabbed, my superiors complain I spend too much time looking for the culprit! All those fellows arrived with Monsieur Palenier. And all because I mentioned the name Kevlokine. They’re grabbing everyone who tries to come in to the Gunans’ house. But there are so many visitors that by the end of the day they will have arrested the whole of Paris.’

‘Very clever. The real royalists will be lost in the crowd; it will be hard to separate them out. Every one of them must have taken care to concoct his cover.’

Jean-Quenin arrived in a fury, scarlet-faced, his case in hand, his uniform hidden under a light-coloured overcoat. He opened his mouth to speak but his friend gestured that he should stay silent. This is Inspector Sausson, and he must not know anything about me,’ Margont explained. ‘Perhaps he will leave us ...’

He would pay for saying that. Sausson tensed. His lips folded and disappeared with the words he swallowed down. He turned abruptly and left the room, banging the door.

Jean-Quenin stared at the victim. ‘What wasps’ nest have you stirred up now, Quentin?’ His weary, despairing expression spoke volumes.

‘Could you examine the body, please, Jean-Quenin? I won’t tell you anything about it so as not to influence you.’

As the medical officer did so, Margont went over to the fireplace. Here the smell of charred flesh was almost unbearable. Crease spots stained the stones of the hearth and there were shreds of burnt clothing. The count must have fallen asleep while the fire was still burning. Had the murderer killed him as he slept and then dragged the body over to the hearth?

Jean-Quenin undressed the corpse.

‘I don’t understand this. Here again the man was burnt after having been killed. But I can’t see how he was killed! It’s the first time I’ve come across a crime like this. Perhaps he was poisoned ... by a slow-acting poison, which he swallowed at dinner, or drank in a tisane before going to sleep, and which took effect while he slept. But that doesn’t really make sense ... That would mean that the poisoner would have had to come in at least twice: once to pour

out the poison, then to mutilate the body, and he would have had to hide himself for hours in the house. As you know, I’m interested in criminal cases and I owe my interest to you. I can tell you that, very often, murderers who use poison choose it so that they don’t have to touch their victims, because they find them repulsive!’

Margont was puzzled. ‘Can we really be certain that this man was murdered by the same person as Colonel Berle?’ he wondered. ‘Now I think so, now I think not ... There are manifest similarities between the murders, but also differences.’

‘Wait, I mentioned poison, but let’s not be too hasty! It’s only a theory, because that’s the only weapon I know that can kill a man whilst leaving the body apparently unscathed. But it’s also possible that this person was awoken by a noise, that he noticed an intruder in his room, and that his heart, weakened by age and excess, was not strong enough to withstand the sudden shock. Or perhaps his heart gave out with the pain of the first burns, but the murderer went on inflicting them.’ ‘But the expression on his face is tranquil - doesn’t that mean that he was also mutilated after being killed, like Berle? Perhaps he was even killed as he slept; he seems so peaceful with his eyes closed. Then the murderer could have gagged him and bound his hands, to make it look as if the burns were inflicted before death.’

‘It’s true that the man’s relaxed expression does argue in favour of your hypothesis. But that’s all it is - a hypothesis; we can’t prove it. It doesn’t eliminate the second theory that I suggested, which at least explains how the man might have died. A brief intense terror would not necessarily make its mark on the man’s face, because death would be very sudden.’

‘Would you be able to do an autopsy?’

‘If the cause of death were obvious, as in the case of Colonel Berle, I would have refused, because we’re so busy dealing with the wounded every day. But this case is different. A doctor should never leave the cause of death unexplained. Otherwise, one of these days, he will miss the signs of that unexplained cause ...’ Thank you! I will undertake to get agreement from Inspector

Sausson.’

‘And from that band of harpies who set on me earlier...’

Cause of death unknown ... Jean-Quenin was, most unaccustomedly, agitated. He would not let himself be beaten! He was going to discuss the mystery with colleagues. Every time he was checked in his battle against death, far from leading him to concede defeat, it just reinforced his determination to continue fighting, on and on. He would sometimes refer to patients ten years after their deaths, as if they had died just the other day.

Margont told him the little he knew about Count Kevlokine, and where Lefine was staying, so that he would be able to pass on his conclusions. Then he called Sausson back and made his request. Jean-Quenin added that he would have to have the body taken to his hospital, as soon as possible.

‘On the express condition that I can be present at the autopsy. That way, I’ll be sure that you don’t conceal the results from me.’

As Sausson was organising the removal of the remains, Jean-Quenin collected anything that might have contained food or drink: a glass and pitcher from the bedroom, plates and three dirty cups from the kitchen ...

Margont questioned Keberk privately. He described the members of the Swords of the King to him, to see whether any of them had been seen at the house. But Keberk shook his head at each description, and it was impossible to tell whether he had never in fact seen any of them, or whether he was lying to protect his employers. In any case, he seemed so overcome that his answers could not be trusted.

Finally Margont went to see where the intruder had broken in. As with Berle, the shutters had been shattered, probably with a crowbar, and a windowpane had been broken to open the window.

As Margont was about to leave, Sausson called out to him: ‘Do you know what the little royalist emblem signifies?’

‘Goodbye, Inspector...’

CHAPTER 26

THAT very evening Jean-Quenin Brémond let Margont know, via Lefine, that he had to see him as soon as possible. Margont was slightly irritated by this, but he complied. He left the print shop and, taking all necessary precautions, went to the meeting place Jean-Quenin had specified, in front of the Eglise Saint-Gervais. The medical officer was in civilian clothes, which was rare. Margont was grateful for his prudence.

‘What’s going on, Jean-Quenin?’

The doctor was agitated, excited. It was the first time that Margont had seen him in such a state. Jean-Quenin - who normally kept a tight check on his emotions, even when he was amputating on the battlefield - seemed to be in the grip of a feverish disturbance that was making his blood boil.

‘Quentin, I know what killed Count Kevlokine. During the autopsy,

I pretended not to understand anything, to hide my discovery from Inspector Sausson, because I know you want to keep him away

from your investigation. I found no trace of poison in the food remains, or in the glasses or cups I found at the Gunans’ house, so the policeman suspected nothing. It’s ... it’s ...’

Margont was proud of his ability to keep his cool, but he considered that normally Jean-Quenin was even better at it. Now as he looked at his friend in such a state, he had the impression he was looking at a mountain trembling.