“Ah, you are a delightful companion, Monsieur,” was Peret’s genial response. “Me—I am a great talker, but a poor listener. I will tell you what I know with pleasure. But let me first congratulate you upon the excellence of these Persian cigarettes. Sacre! But you have a delicate taste, Monsieur.”
The artist bowed his acknowledgment to the compliment, but impatiently. It was evident that he was eager to hear what the Frenchman had on his mind, and Peret, remarking this, did not keep him longer in suspense.
“I will not take up your time by recounting all that has transpired since I saw you last night, Monsieur,” began Peret, “and for the sake of convenience I will tell my story in a round-about sort of way. Let me begin with my first attempt to motivate Berjet’s murder.
“M. Berjet was, as you are doubtless aware, a scientist of international repute. In scientific circles, in fact, he was a towering figure. I have the honor of having had a casual acquaintanceship with him for several years, and as I knelt beside his dead body on the sidewalk last night I recalled to mind many of the achievements that had brought him moderate wealth and fame. Among other things, I remembered having recently seen a newspaper account of a new invention of his—a poison gas of unparalleled destructive powers, the formula of which several warring nations have been trying to purchase.
“As clues were sadly lacking, and our investigation in his house failed to reveal any satisfactory explanation for Berjet’s death, I at once assumed that the motive for the murder had been the theft of the formula. I knew that at least one of the nations that have been trying to acquire the formula would go to almost any length to gain possession of a new and really effective weapon of this kind. I therefore got in touch with the Secret Service, which usually has an intimate knowledge of such matters, and learned several facts that made me more certain than ever that I was on the right track.
“Berjet’s poison gas, I learned, is indeed a terrible destructive agent. It is said to be even more deadly than Lewisite. A minute portion of a drop, if placed on the ground, will kill every living thing, vegetable and animal, within a radius of half a mile. Think, then, what a ton would do!
“Berjet called his invention ‘Q-gas.’ The formula was first offered to our government for a moderate sum, and rejected, and at the time of his death the savant was negotiating for its sale to the French government.”
“Surely, you are not going to try to make me believe that this Q-gas played a direct part in the death of Berjet and Sprague and the attack on me,” interrupted Deweese. “Believe me, Mr. Peret—”
“I do believe you, my friend,” was Peret’s smiling response. “The gas itself played no part in the tragedy last night, but the formula is at the bottom of all of the trouble, as has been suggested. The murders were simply incidental to the robbery of the formula.”
“Have you discovered who the robber was?” queried Deweese, with natural curiosity.