“Bigot had gone out and it was not known when he would return. “I believe that M. Verneuil is to put himself at your disposal. I will call him.” Charles Verneuil, as the British detectives came to know later, had been a petty officer in the French navy. He was a man on the wrong side of forty, with a rather rolling gait when he walked, and a broad chest. He was as little like a detective as it is possible to imagine. His eyes were shrewd and humorous; a sarcastic twist of the lips might conv...ert his humour into winged darts of satire. He greeted his British colleagues warmly, though not without a hint that he expected them to provide him with an afternoon of entertainment. He came from the west of Brittany. “I have instructions from M. Bigot,” he said, “that the first thing to do is to find a M. Pinet, a journalist who writes for the Crédit National. With your permission we will go straight to the office of that journal in the rue Réaumur.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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