A French Detective's Story
I was stopping at the hotel Windsor in the Rue de Rivoli, Paris.
One morning I was smoking in the colonnade, when a tall, elegantly dressed gentleman asked permission to light his cigar by mine. I saw at a glance that he was a Frenchman, although his English was nearly perfect.
“Have you heard the news?” he inquired.
“No.”
“Is it possible? Why, all Paris is alive with it at this moment.” “What has happened?”
“The Countess de Manville, the fairest of the fair, was found murdered in her bed last night, her bureau broken open, and ten thousand francs missing from it. Ah, it was terrible! There were marks of fingers on her throat; the brute who did the deed effected his entrance through the window of her chamber, near which, unfortunately, was a tree, planted years ago by the grandfather of the countess. Little did he imagine the terrible use that would be made of it.”
“This is bad news. How any man could murder a woman thus is more than I can imagine.”
“Ah, monsieur, if … Read More