"Cocher, drive to the third house on the right round the corner," said the fare, and the head instantly disappeared inside the vehicle, which a few minutes later drew up at the house.
It was Pierre Duval who alighted from the cab, and entering the house knocked at the door on the first floor.
"Ah, this is indeed a surprise, mon ami." The speaker, Paul Romaine, was a man nearly middle-aged with a crop of dishevelled hair and teeth discoloured from the effects of perpetual cigarette smoking, but a charming fellow notwithstanding, and thoroughly straightforward and honest.
"Diable! I have not seen you for nearly two years. What brings you in here, mon ami, on a filthy day like this of all others?"
"As a matter of fact I have a most important legal case on hand, and I really came, mon cher Paul, to ask your advice."
"Nothing could give me greater pleasure, I assure you, but I am no lawyer, and I cannot see how I can help you."
"On the contrary you can be of inestimable service to me. You are assistant medical analyst to the Government, are you not?"
"That is precisely what I am," replied Paul, "entirely at your service."
"You must know then that I am acting as prosecutor in a medico-legal case, which is very obscure, as we suspect foul play—in fact poisoning, and it is naturally of the greatest importance that I should make myself au fait with the various poisons and their means of detection. The case I have to study is a very complicated one as none of the doctors could fix on any poisons from the symptoms, and yet the autopsy revealed nothing to account for the death of the victim. Of course my visit is strictly confidential, as it would not do for anyone to know I had been consulting you. I feel sure you will appreciate my reason for this."