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Interallié , because the address of that club was on the torn-up paper. We found that M. Paul Chabrol had lunched there with Mr. Everett on the day before the murder. Bigot is going to interrogate him.”
    â€œH’m. We don’t seem to have got very far, do we? Did you find nothing else suggestive among Everett’s papers?”
    â€œNo, sir—in that sense we’ve had a barren after-noon, unless the Chabrol incident develops. In these cases one can never tell what is going to turn into a clue. Generally, there is something to establish a motive for the crime; here, so far, there is nothing, but I don’t despair. Luck so often plays into one’s hands. M. Bigot seemed very much pleased with our find in the waste-paper-basket and with our discovery of the film, but personally I saw nothing in the note or in the torn-up paper to cause a quarrel which was to end in a murder.”

Chapter Five
    W HEN I NSPECTOR Richardson and Sergeant Cooper reached the police station the next morning, Inspector Bigot was waiting for them. He beckoned them into his office.
    â€œYou are just in time, gentlemen. In the waiting-room opposite is M. Paul Chabrol, and I would like you to hear his answers to my questions.”
    Richardson was quick to see that their friend Bigot prided himself on his skill in examining suspects. It was a very harmless form of vanity, but it might be difficult afterwards to find words for the expected commendation.
    Bigot tapped twice on the floor with his heel; the door was thrown open by a constable, and a tall, thin man with sandy hair and moustache was introduced. The constable left the room, shutting the door behind him.
    â€œHave I the honour of speaking to M. Paul Chabrol?” asked Bigot, who had placed his British colleagues on chairs beside him.
    â€œThat is my name,” replied the man.
    â€œYou are a journalist, I think? You will excuse my ignorance if I ask you for what papers you write?”
    â€œI am special correspondent for a number of provincial papers such as the Courrier du Midi , the Quotidien de Lille , and a number of others.”
    â€œOn what subjects do you write?”
    â€œOn political gossip very often; sometimes on financial questions—it all depends.”
    â€œYou know, of course, that the English Press attaché, M. Everett, has met with a violent death.”
    â€œYes, I have read of this in the newspapers.”
    â€œYou lunched with him at the Cercle Interallié on Monday, did you not?”
    â€œI did.”
    â€œAnd then you wrote to him on Tuesday, asking him to destroy what you had written, and saying that you would visit him on that evening to see that the note was destroyed?”
    â€œThat is so.”
    â€œAnd you did visit him?”
    â€œYes, at about half-past nine.”
    Richardson was watching the man’s face while he was being questioned; he could detect no sign of embarrassment or hesitation. The replies seemed to be perfectly frank and open. Cooper, who among his other accomplishments had acquired some practice in shorthand, was taking notes of the interview in English.
    â€œWill you tell me what passed at this interview?” asked Bigot.
    â€œM. Everett was expecting me. He received me in the most friendly manner, and invited me to accept a consommation with him. This courtesy I declined. I had a special reason for insisting upon the destruction of the note I had given him during the luncheon of the day before. I gave him the reason quite frankly, and he took the note out of his pocket-book, tore it up in my presence, and threw the pieces into his waste-paper-basket. I was in haste that evening, having occasion to telephone to the editor of one of my journals, and so I left M. Everett within a few minutes.”
    â€œMay I ask the reason for desiring him to destroy that note?”
    â€œThe reason was purely a private one. The information I had given to Mr. Everett had been