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furnished by a confrère who had not told me the truth. He had given me much trouble in getting paragraphs that I had sent to my newspapers cancelled just before they went to press. That is a risk that every journalist has to run.”
    â€œQuite so. No one questions your good faith in getting the paragraphs cancelled. It is to be regretted that all journalists do not exercise the same discretion. You parted with M. Everett on friendly terms?”
    â€œPerfectly friendly. You have not asked me what was in the note that M. Everett destroyed.”
    Bigot smiled. “I did not ask you that because we have the note itself.” He pulled from a drawer the sheet which Richardson and Cooper had laboriously reconstructed.
    â€œHa, ha! You took these fragments from the waste-paper-basket in Everett’s apartment?”
    â€œWe did. How long had you known M. Everett?”
    â€œOnly ten days or so. I was told that he was attached to the British Embassy in connection with Press matters and I, who am interested in public affairs in England, got a French colleague to present me to him. The invitation to lunch at the Cercle Interallié last Monday followed that introduction.”
    â€œThe tone of your note to him, written on Tuesday morning, seemed rather peremptory.”
    â€œDo you think so? You must make allowance for a journalist who is overworked and who was smarting under the disagreeable discovery that a man whom he trusted had deceived him. At any rate Mr. Everett bore me no malice. Did you invite me down here because you suspected me of being guilty of an assassination?”
    â€œI invited you here as I have invited others who visited M. Everett’s flat on Tuesday, to give an account of the reason for the visit. As a journalist you will recognize that that is the first duty of a police officer who is charged with the inquiry into a death.”
    Chabrol smiled a little sarcastically. “And if their answers do not satisfy you, further steps are taken?”
    â€œSometimes. I confess to some surprise that when you read of the tragedy in the rue St. Georges you did not at once come to us to give the explanation you have just made.”
    â€œI did not think that was necessary. I was not the last person who saw M. Everett that evening. While I was actually saying good-bye to him on the landing a colleague, M. Pinet, who writes for the Crédit National , arrived on the landing and was shaking hands with M. Everett as I went down the stairs. Probably others visited the apartment at a later hour.”
    Both Richardson and Cooper were astonished at the next question put by their French colleague. “Have you ever visited the Jardin Zoologique in the Bois de Vincennes?”
    Chabrol seemed to be equally surprised by the question.
    â€œYes, in common with all other Parisian journalists, I suppose, I have visited them.”
    â€œDid you take your camera with you?”
    â€œNo, monsieur, for the excellent reason that I do not possess one. The articles I write are never illustrated.”
    â€œDid any of your journalist friends ask you to get a film developed for them?”
    â€œNo, monsieur. I am curious to know the reason for these last questions.”
    Bigot smiled enigmatically. “If you follow the case, monsieur, I have no doubt that your curiosity will be satisfied. I am much obliged to you for coming here and I will not detain you any longer.”
    The formal leave-taking between the two was of the usual impressive kind. Bigot went so far as to open the door for his departing guest. He was smiling as he returned to his writing-table.
    â€œNo doubt you have guessed why I put those questions about the photographs? I have the developed films found in Mr. Everett’s flat in this drawer; they are a disappointment. There are eight of them—all pictures of animals in their enclosures in the Zoological Gardens at Vincennes.”
    â€œIs there no photograph of a