‘I am sorry to say it was that of your mistress.’
François shook his head sadly.
‘I feared as much, monsieur,’ he said in a low tone.
‘M. Boirac saw the advertisement also. He came just now to the Sûreté and identified the remains beyond any doubt. It is a painful case, for I regret to tell you she had been murdered in a rather brutal way, and now we are here with M. Boirac’s approval to make some inquiries.’
The old butler’s face paled.
‘Murdered!’ he repeated in a horrified whisper. ‘It couldn’t be. No one that knew her could do that. Every one, messieurs, loved Madame. She was just an angel of goodness.’
The man spoke with real feeling in his voice and seemed overcome with emotion.
‘Well, messieurs,’ he continued, after a pause, ‘any help I can give you to get your hands on the murderer I’ll give with real delight, and I only hope you’ll succeed soon.’
‘I hope so too, François. We’ll do our best anyway. Now, please, will you answer some questions. You remember M. Boirac being called to the works on Saturday the 27th of March, the evening of the dinner party, at about a quarter to nine. That was about the time, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, monsieur.’