J. S. Fletcher

“ I said good-bye to her then, and repaired to Monsieur Gourgand, who at once conducted me into his private room. I slapped him on the shoulder.
“My friend Gourgand,” said I. “You are a man of a great judgment and of a ripe wisdom. Therefore, you will do exactly what I tell you to do, will you not?”
“I have sufficient confidence in Monsieur Campenhaye to do whatever he wishes,” he replied. ”

“ Nobody had seen Mr. Becker enter his flat in company with anyone, and nobody had seen anyone leave it. The only information forthcoming at all up to the time of the special editions was that Mr. Becker spent the evening from eight o’clock until ten minutes to eleven at the Discletion Club, and left there alone.
Such were the surface facts—up to then. I had just mastered them, after reading all the newspapers, when Killingley entered in his usual quiet fashion, and advanced to my side.
“M. Gourgand wishes to see you, sir,” he said. “He says you know him.” ”

“ I suggested. “I will write it.” And I sat down and scribbled a few words on the back of one of my professional cards, which I then fastened up in an envelope. “Give that to mademoiselle and say I wait,” I said.
Five minutes later the maid showed me into a big boudoir, and the presence of the dancer, whose name was famous in half a dozen capitals. Seen under these circumstances, stripped of all the atmosphere and glamour of the stage, she looked nothing more than a mere slip of a girl, and a frightened, anxious, nervous girl at that. ”

“ In this way, and within the space of the next half-hour, I made myself acquainted with what I will call the surface facts—the plain, obvious features, of the affair which centred around a bottle of dry champagne.
For some time previous to this October which I have just mentioned (to be quite precise, for a period of three years) , there had resided in a flat in the best part of Shaftesbury Avenue, a gentleman who was known to the agents, the caretaker, and to the tradesfolk as Mr. Charles Becker. He was a man of apparently thirty-five years of age; a tall, well-built, good-looking man ”

“ I am nothing of the sort, mademoiselle. I am a specialist in criminology. But sometimes matters come in my way by accident. This has come in my way by accident. Perhaps it is well for you that it has. ”

“ Very good. It was a little before eight that he came to me and took me aside. ‘Gourgand,’ says he, ‘I have important affairs to transact with a friend, a lady, to-night; I wish to entertain her to a little supper in a private apartment. I suggest your little cabinet on the first floor. And,’ he continued, ‘you can give me the key of your side door; it is an affair of the greatest secrecy, Gourgand, and the lady wishes not to be seen. I desire that the supper be ready laid, and all in order, when we arrive at eleven o’clock—there will be no need for attendance. ”

“ I rang the bell which summoned my clerk, who was an invaluable person in many ways, and possessed a very, very comfortable knowledge of what was what and who was who in the great world of London.
“Killingley,” I said, “you are always au fait with all theatrical and musical matters. What is the real name of the French dancer who has been appearing at the Megathesium under the stage name of La Papillon? ”

“ Yes, monsieur!”
“One bottle of a particular brand of champagne is very much like another bottle, Monsieur Gourgand,” I remarked.
“Listen, then, monsieur! Mr. Becker concluded his arrangements. I prepare the little cabinet myself. I lay the table; at the precise hour I serve the little supper and make myself invisible. But I am not so far away that I do not know what is going on. Mr. Becker returns to the promised moment; he and his companion enter the room ”

“ Becker’s history was of the negative order—a little was known of it.
Now, why did the newspapers publish special editions in relation to this Mr. Charles Becker, of No. —, Shaftesbury Avenue, on this particular day of October, 191-? For a simple reason. At eight o’clock this morning Mr. Becker was found lying dead on the floor of his sitting-room. What was more, it was very evident that he had been murdered.
There was no great amount of mystery about the obvious facts of Mr. Becker’s murder. According to custom, William Felton, a man who acted as valet and servant to Mr. ”