The Case of the Dead Diplomat by Basil Thomson

send him to you, messieurs, and if we do not meet again for a time, let me assure you that the assistance you have given me is very highly appreciated.”
    They shook hands cordially; it was a polite dismissal.
    The Englishmen had no time to discuss their position, for the approaching footsteps of Verneuil resounded in the passage outside. He greeted them with a whimsical smile as he shook hands with them.
    â€œYou want to hear what I did after leaving you yesterday afternoon? Well… I found the agent who picked up the pieces of our friend, M. Pinet, in the Place de la Concorde on Tuesday night. That gentleman ought to go far in his profession; he has a fine gift of imagination.”
    â€œYou mean that there was no accident at all?”
    â€œOh, yes; there was an accident all right. The agent said that the gentleman fell off his moto and damaged it; that he was bleeding profusely from the nose.”
    â€œYou mean that the accident was done on purpose?”
    Verneuil shrugged his shoulders. “The agent could not say that. He said the man was riding very slowly and very carelessly. He seemed to wobble into the refuge when he had a clear road before him, and when he picked him up he seemed to be dazed. That was why he was taken to the hospital. The agent telephoned to a repairing garage and they took the moto away and mended it. At the hospital they said that a little sticking-plaster would have sufficed for the wounds. Pinet told them that he thought he must have become faint when riding and that he had no memory of the accident.”
    â€œHe fainted, eh? Such things have happened, of course. Have you found anything indicating who Mr. Everett’s third visitor was that night? You remember that Pinet half suggested that it was one of M. Quesnay’s seconds.”
    Verneuil looked at them quizzically. “I dare say that at a later stage, when my inspector has finished his business with M. Quesnay, we shall have to interview that gentleman’s seconds. He chuckled inwardly at his thoughts about those interviews. “Yes, certainly they must be interviewed. I shall volunteer for the duty myself.” His big frame shook with merriment. “Duelling seconds committing a murder to vindicate their honour. Mon Dieu! ”
    â€œI am sorry to say that we shall be leaving you,” said Richardson.
    â€œLeaving us?”
    â€œYes, we gather that M. Bigot has no further need of our services.”
    â€œAlways this Bigot!” exclaimed the ex-petty officer, half to himself. “My colleague is aiming high; he’s out to hunt deputies. He is riding for a fall, like Pinet. Well, I wish him joy of it. But I shall not say farewell to you, because I foresee that we shall still have work to do together, and that when my inspector has finished his business with M. Quesnay, he will expect us to find the real culprit. So it is not adieu , but au revoir .”
    The two English detectives set out to walk home in chastened mood.
    â€œI wonder why Bigot has chucked us,” said Cooper. “Did we offend in any way?”
    â€œPerhaps we didn’t play up to him enough about this duelling business, but probably the real reason is that he believes in himself and doesn’t want anyone else to share the laurels with him. I’m not altogether sorry. There is nothing worse in our job than to be working under a man who is barking up the wrong tree.”
    â€œWhat will the Embassy say? Send us back to the Yard with a bad mark against us? After all, we’ve come up against a dead wall.”
    â€œYes, and it’s at the foot of such dead walls that we detective officers find a friend waiting for us. We haven’t met him yet in this case.”
    â€œWhat friend?”
    â€œWhy, Sergeant Luck, of course. It’s at the dead wall that he comes sidling up with a grin on his face. He may be waiting for us round the corner at this very moment.”
    Cooper sighed audibly.