‘Bad business, this,’ resumed the Chief. ‘He didn’t know what was coming?’
‘I don’t think so, sir. My impression has been all through that he was being fooled by this Frenchman, whoever he is.’
‘It’s murder now, anyway. You’ll have to go to Paris, Burnley, and look into it.’
‘Yes, sir, very good.’ He looked at his watch. ‘It’s eight o’clock. I shall hardly be able to go to-night. I shall have to take the cask and the clothing, and get some photos and measurements of the corpse and hear the result of the medical examination.’
‘To-morrow will be time enough, but I’d go by the nine o’clock train. I’ll give you a personal note to Chauvet, the chief of the Paris police. You speak French, I think?’
‘Enough to get on, sir.’
‘You shouldn’t have much difficulty, I think. The Paris men are bound to know if there are any recent disappearances, and if not you have the cask and the clothing to fall back on.’
‘Yes, sir, they should be a help.’
Footsteps in the corridor announced the arrival of the doctor. With a hasty greeting to the Chief, he turned to the unconscious man.
‘What happened to him?’ he asked.