"Use him," answered Coquenil.
CHAPTER VII
THE FOOTPRINTS
One of the great lessons Coquenil had learned in his long experience with mysterious crimes was to be careful of hastily rejecting any evidence because it conflicted with some preconceived theory. It would have been easy now, for instance, to assume that this prim spinster was mistaken in declaring that she had seen the pistol thrown from the window of Number Seven. That, of course, seemed most unlikely, since the shooting was done in Number Six, yet how account for the woman's positiveness? She seemed a truthful, well-meaning person, and the murderer might have gone into Number Seven after committing the crime. It was evidently important to get as much light as possible on this point. Hence the need of M. Gritz.
M. Herman Gritz was a short, massive man with hard, puffy eyes and thin black hair, rather curly and oily, and a rapacious nose. He appeared (having been induced to come down by the commissary) in a richly embroidered blue-silk house garment, and his efforts at affability were obviously based on apprehension.
Coquenil began at once with questions about private room Number Seven. We had reserved this room and what had prevented the person from occupying it? M. Gritz replied that Number Seven had been engaged some days before by an old client, who, at the last moment, had sent a petit bleu to say that he had changed his plans and would not require the room. The petit bleu did not arrive until after the crime was discovered, so the room remained empty. More than that, the door was locked.
"Locked on the outside?"
"Yes."