‘So that there shall be no mistake, I shall tell you. I want to know who it was engaged you to take the cask to the rue Cardinet goods station.’
La Touche, who was watching the other intently, saw him start, while his face paled and the look of fear returned to his eyes. It was evident he understood the question. That involuntary motion had given him away.
‘I assure you, monsieur, I don’t know what you mean. What cask are you referring to?’
La Touche bent closer.
‘Tell me, do you know what was in that cask? No? Well, I’ll tell you. There was a body in it—the body of a woman—a murdered woman. Did you not guess that from the papers? Did you not realise that the cask you carried to the station was the one that all the papers have been full of? Now, do you want to be arrested as an accessory after the fact in a murder case?’
The man was ghastly, and beads of perspiration stood on his forehead. In a trembling voice he began again to protest his ignorance. La Touche cut him short.
‘Chut, man! You needn’t keep it up. Your part in the thing is known, and if it wasn’t you would soon give it away. Dubois, you haven’t red enough blood for this kind of thing! Be guided by me. Make a clean breast of it, and I’ll give you the hundred francs, and, what’s more, I’ll do my best to help you out of your trouble with your employers. If you don’t, you’ll have to come along now to the Sûreté. Make up your mind quickly what you’re going to do.’
The man, evidently panic stricken, remained silent. La Touche took out his watch.
‘I’ll give you five minutes,’ he said, and, leaning back in his chair, he lit a cigar.
Before the time was up the man spoke.