The Crime Of The Impardonable Sin (Part 2)

PART II

'Good morning Mr Duvauchelle, I see that you are in an inquisitive mood!'

'That is an understatement, monsieur. I am a wreck, and my anxiety is consuming me, like the rats that gnaw away at the walls of this cell.'

'The rats you say Mr Duvauchelle, where?'

'Behind these four walls! I hear their nocturnal squeaking and gnawing'.

'It is regrettable that you experience this discomfort, but the rats are the least of your concerns Mr Duvauchelle. Hold on my boy and stay steadfast, amidst the adversity'.

'It is difficult, monsieur. You do not know the horrors of war. I who was there in the deadly trenches of the battlefield still am haunted daily, with those horrific images of death and despair. These sturdy walls remind me of those confined trenches'.

'I can only fathom that terrifying ordeal Mr Duvauchelle'.

'Monsieur, there are no adequate words to describe this horror that no civilised man should ever experience in his life!'

'Well said Mr Duvauchelle, but we must proceed to the matter of your defence'.

Mr Duvauchelle then changed his demeanour and had focused on the case, 'Pardon monsieur, I am listening!'

'Good Mr Duvauchelle! I was thinking about the other possible witnesses of that night. You said that you were at the Ritz Hotel on the night of the murder'.

'Oui monsieur!'

'You were with the Lady Arrington the whole night?'

'What do you mean monsieur?'

'I mean were you alone or with the Lady Arrington the entire night?'

'I comprehend! Yes, we had gone to the theatre, as I had stated before'.

'Then, afterwards!'

'We had returned to the hotel!'

'Did you speak to anyone at the hotel?'

He paused to reflect on that question, 'I believe I had spoken to the porter, before I had entered the room with the Lady Arrington'.

'Do you know his name Mr Duvauchelle?'

'His name is George!'

'Who else?'

'Nobody else!'

'Then, it is this George, who I must speak to!'

'You think, he can attest to our conversation, monsieur?'

'Perhaps, if I can find him!'

'If you do, he will vouch for me, will he not monsieur?'

'I hope, Mr Duvauchelle!'

Mr Whitby had excused himself and departed the Police Station. He headed once more to the Ritz Hotel, this time, to speak to the porter. When he had arrived there, he asked if he could speak to him. It did not take long before, he located him and spoke to him privately. He was a mild manner individual, who was sedulous in his occupation. Mr Whitby had presented himself to him, and he began his enquiry.

'George Albright?'

'Yes, I am George Albright, what can I do for you, sir?'

'I am Mr Harold Whitby. I came to ask you several questions, about a certain gentleman that you might know'.

'Who?'

'Mr Duvauchelle! Does that name ring a bell?'

'You mean Mr Duvauchelle, the Frenchman? The lover of the Lady Arrington'.

'Yes, but how did you know that they were lovers?'

'Everyone who works at the hotel was aware of their amorous affair, sir. Even Lord Greenfield, who had reproached them'.

'What do you mean Mr Albright?'

'I thought you were aware of their heated confrontation!'

'Heated confrontation you say Mr Albright? What exactly took place that you recall of the night of the murder of the Lady Arrington?'

'The Lady Arrington had been with Mr Duvauchelle in the room, and as they were exiting the hotel, Lord Greenfield had confronted them, and he argued with Mr Duvauchelle'.

'Can you be more specific Mr Albright! What were they arguing about?'

'It was about the affair, between Mr Duvauchelle and the Lady Arrington'.

'Do you remember what Lord Greenfield was expressing?'

'You mean his words?'

'Of course!'

'Lord Greenfield was telling him he was a scoundrel, a wastrel, who was only with her for her wealth and status in society'.

'Did he threaten him?'

'You mean did Lord Greenfield threaten Mr Duvauchelle?'

'Yes!'

'I am not one to quote the exact words of a man sir, but we all heard him say, that he was lucky to not be dead. The next time they would cross path, Mr Duvauchelle would not be a fortunate man'.

'Then, what happened?'

'Lord Greenfield was escorted to his room by the chambermaid'.

'Who was that chambermaid?'

'Miss Biggins!'

'This Miss Biggins, she was the chambermaid that had tended to the room of the Lady Arrington?

'Yes!'

Did she tend to Lord Greenfield's room as well, when he was here that night?'

'I believe so, sir!'

Mr Whitby had stared into the porter's eyes to observe his response to his audacious question, 'Did Miss Biggins always tend to his room, while he stayed in the hotel?'

'Whenever he came to visit London!'

'Lord Greenfield came often?'

'He came and went, sir!'

'Where is Miss Biggins at? Is she currently working at the hotel?'

'I believe she had the day off'.

'I shall like to enter the room of the murder of the Lady Arrington. Can you have someone open the room with the key?'

'Certainly!'

The porter had told Mr Whitby to wait in the lounge, until he found someone to open the door. Afterwards, a young lady had escorted Mr Whitby to the Lady Arrington's room. Even though he had entered the room before and it had been cleaned, the pristine room appeared almost the same, with its uncommon eeriness and indifference. This was due to the ghastliness of the nature of the death that had impressed a haunting vestige of murder. He began to investigate the room, with the hope of finding a clue and understanding the events that had unfolded. After he had traced every possible step of the episode of the murder, including the new information that preceded the death of the Lady Arrington, he searched from top to bottom, for any relevant clue that was overlooked or mistakenly dismissed, as an inconsequential irony. As he was gazing at the mirror of the room, he saw the reflection of an inanimate object that was under the bed. When he realised, it was a silver cigarette case that had been thrown to the ground or fell to the ground. The question he had was, whose cigarette case did it belong to and was this here, when the murder of the Lady Arrington was committed?

So much was unclear, about the true nature behind the murder and its undetermined motive. There was another fascinating item that he had discovered, an article of clothing that belonged to a garment of a woman's dress. Was this item as well, connected to the murder of the daughter of the count of Devonshire? How could he confirm his suspicion? Perhaps, the porter would know! He spoke to him again, and this time, he had queried, about the possible significance of these new clues presented.

'Mr Albright, do you recognise these two items. The first is a silver cigarette case, and the second, is a piece of garment?'

He had examined the items, paused and then responded, 'The cigarette case seems like the type that Lord Greenfield had, then again, I may be wrong!'

'Look closely, Mr Albright—for it is of extreme importance! It can make the difference from being a guilty man to an innocent man'.

'It had belonged to Lord Greenfield!'

'And the garment?'

He had examined it too, very closely and exclaimed, 'Oh!'

'What is it, Mr Albright? Do you recognise this item?' Mr Whitby insisted.

'Yes indeed!'

'To whom does it belong to?'

He had a singular expression that denoted a shocking revelation, 'It had belonged to Miss Biggins, the chambermaid, sir!'

'Are you certain Mr Albright?'

'Enough to testify?'

'Of course!'

'Is Miss Biggins working today?'

'No!'

'Then, I shall return tomorrow!'

Mr Whitby left the Ritz Hotel post-haste, with the stunning clues he had discovered and the asseveration disclosed. Within the passing of twenty-four hours, he had perceived a propitious benefit to the case that would change the course of the investigation completely. If it was an accurate intimation and he could prove the correlation, between the items and the murder, then he would uncover the truth to the mystery. Thus, it would imply as well, unveiling the original identity of the murderer and culprit. He was anxious to apprise Mr Duvauchelle. He had returned to the gaol to tell him of his recent discoveries at the hotel, and the interesting conversation he shared with the porter. He had an urgency also, to speak to Lord Greenfield, his main suspect. From what he had read in the newspapers, he was back in Devonshire, attending the funeral of the late Lady Arrington. Naturally, the other person who he needed to speak to was, Miss Biggins the chambermaid. There was much of her and her version of events that were incompatible and incompossible details, to the actual sequence of the murder of the Lady Arrington.

There was yet concern for the absence of Mr Cantrelle. He had received a correspondence sent by his private investigator, who had been outside of London that he could not find Mr Cantrelle.

'Mr Duvauchelle, there is a good chance that you might be freed, quicker than you thought!'

'What are you saying monsieur?'

'I went to the hotel and spoke to the valet'.

'What did he tell you, monsieur?'

'He said that on the night of the murder, before the Lady Arrington was killed, you and Lord Greenfield had argued'.

'Is that true Mr Duvauchelle?'

'Now that I remember, I did!

'You forgot to mention this important occurrence!'

'Pardon me monsieur, but my mind is distrait with the thought of being sent to the gallows!'

'Mr Duvauchelle, do you remember what you were arguing?'

'I do! We were arguing about my relationship, with the Lady Arrington'.

'Did he threaten you Mr Duvauchelle?'

Oui! He was extremely a jealous man, with rage in his dilated eyes, monsieur'.

'He was drunk?'

'Like a mad drunkard monsieur!'

'What happened next?'

'The Lady Arrington had attempted to intervene. The argument abated, and we left for the theatre.'

'Did you see Miss Biggins?'

'She took Lord Greenfield away, by the arm. That is all I remember. That vile woman may appear to be charming and innocent, but she is a cunning serpent, whose fangs carry a lethal dose of poison, monsieur!'

'Perhaps Mr Duvauchelle!'

'You must locate her at once monsieur, and make her confess! It will be much easier to rattle her, then Lord Greenfield. He is a reputable nobleman of solid disposition, who will not be shaken so facilely!'

'I agree Mr Duvauchelle! Until I speak to Miss Biggins, then it is all mere speculative conjecture and theory'.

'You must speak to her monsieur, before it is too late!'

Don't be flustered Mr Duvauchelle! I shall effectuate that action in due time, but I am more concerned with the absence of Mr Cantrelle. I have not been able to locate him at all. It is as if the earth has swallowed him entirely. Where could he be?'

'I would not count on him returning, monsieur!

'What do you mean?'

'Nothing, monsieur! The solitary confinement has begun to play more tricks on my mind'.

Mr Whitby left the cell of Mr Duvauchelle and had returned to Piccadilly to peruse the new revelations of the ongoing case. He was mindful of the importance of these discovered clues. If he could link these items retrieved to the murder, then he would have a plausible connection to produce a consequential effect that had resolved the enigma. He began to surmise his analysis of the murder and Mr Duvauchelle's involvement. The incriminating evidence that was attributed to his client was nothing more than circumstantial facts in nature. The deposition of the chambermaid Miss Biggins was the primary cause for Mr Duvauchelle's culpability in the murder.

He began to wonder about the probability of a conspiratorial plot designed to murder the Lady Arrington. Therefore, he had sent a correspondence to his private investigator who was in Devonshire, to seek any substantial information, about Lord Greenfield, Miss Schiller, Miss Biggins, Mr Cantrelle, and including his client Mr Duvauchelle. What was evident that connected all these individuals to the murder of the Lady Arrington? He had considered the existential riddle to this mystery. The question that had triggered his fascination had been what was the actual answer?

That following morning, Mr Whitby awoke with the immediacy of speaking to Miss Biggins. He headed to the Ritz Hotel and was informed that Miss Biggins had not appeared to work there. She had been scheduled for that day. He thought it was unusual that she had not appeared, since she had never missed a day of work. Although this was indicative of his theory of her surreptitious inclusion in the murder, it was inconclusive evidence that could attach her to the murder.

The impeding trial of Mr Duvauchelle was soon approaching, and the only proof established of his defence was the voluntary affirmation given by Miss Schiller, who stated she had seen Mr Duvauchelle at the Murray's, during the critical hour of the murder. There were subtle discrepancies in this murder that he could not yet accredit to any relevancy so apperceptively.

Mr Whitby had planned as usually he did in the mornings, to visit Mr Duvauchelle, but he visited the home of Miss Schiller to confirm her presence at the upcoming trial. When he arrived, she was absent. He had presumed she had left to visit Mr Duvauchelle and he was correct. When he had arrived at the Police Station, Miss Schiller was indeed visiting his client.

'Good morning Miss Schiller, it is good to see you! I had stopped at your residence to speak to you, and you were not home'.

'Good morning Mr Whitby! I left my flat early to stop to purchase cigarettes, for Jean Pierre'.

'Understood Miss Schiller!'

'Is there something you wanted to tell me, sir?'

'I only wanted to confirm your appearance for the trial Miss Schiller'.

'I see! In that case, yes, I shall be there!'

'Good!'

She had excused herself and left the Police Station, while Mr Whitby conversed with Mr Duvauchelle.

'How are you today, Mr Duvauchelle?' Mr Whitby had asked.

'Nervous, extremely nervous! Is there any new tidings of the case? Have you found Charles? Have you spoken to Miss Biggins?'

His anxiety had developed into a moment of hysterics, 'Not yet Mr Duvauchelle, but I am working on that!'

'My time is running out monsieur. You must find the chambermaid!'

'We still have time Mr Duvauchelle. I shall find her!'

Mr Whitby had noticed that Mr Duvachelle's episode of hysteria had subsided for the nonce and he listened attentively to his words.

'Forgive me, monsieur!'

'There is no extra tidings Mr Duvauchelle'.

'Oh!'

He seemed too glum and resigned to the reality of his forthcoming trial.

'Cheer up Mr Duvauchelle, in spite of the uncertainty, there is still hope!'

'Hope is nothing more than an attainable form of delusion, monsieur. To run away from trouble is a form of cowardice and, while it is true that the suicide braves death, he does it not for some noble object but to escape some ill.'

'Aristotle!' Mr Whitby had responded.

Mr Whitby departed his cell and returned to Piccadilly. There, he had received a note from the porter informing him that Miss Biggins had resigned from her position at the hotel. This was indeed significant information. Immediately, he went to the Ritz Hotel to speak to the young man. Once he spoke to him, he confirmed that Miss Biggins had left her position willingly on her own accord. He found this, a very odd and coincidental piece of information that was difficult to believe. As he was about to leave, the porter handed him some matches that had belonged to the Hotel Savoy. The matches were found in the possessions left behind, by Miss Biggins. At first, Mr Whitby did not perceive any connection, but he thought of Lord Greenfield. He had thanked the porter and headed towards the Hotel Savoy in Westminster. There in one of the rooms of the hotel he found Miss Biggins.

She had been staying there, for two days, not as a chambermaid, instead, as a lady of prestige. It was manifest that a wealthy person had been paying for her expenses, at the lofty hotel. When Mr Whitby had knocked on the door she was not expecting him, and her expression was of a startling surprise that was noticeable, but she quickly changed into her habitual demeanour and attempted to maintain her rigid composure.

'Miss Biggins, it is a coincidence to see you here at the Savoy!'

She smiled and had said, 'Mr Whitby, if I may enquire, what has brought you before me, sir?'

'I believe you know why I am here!'

'Excuse me, but I am afraid I don't, and I don't have much time to dawdle. I think I have answered all your questions respectfully, sir!'

She was about to close the door, before Mr Whitby had showed her the piece of garment found, 'I believe this belongs to you Miss Biggins!'

Upon seeing the torn garment, she rapidly changed her conduct once more. She had proceeded to allow Mr Whitby to enter the room. Once inside they spoke, 'Miss Biggins, you and I know that this garment was yours. It is from the typical uniform worn, as a chambermaid of the Ritz Hotel. This can be easily corroborated by the employees of the hotel'.

'This does not prove it was mine, sir!'

'Perhaps, but you fail to realise that I have checked every employer that worked on that night of the murder, including the chambermaids, Miss Biggins. And ironically, you were the only chambermaid that was working in the vicinity, during the hour of the murder.'

Her straightforward defence had started to become, an atwitter discomfort that would then transform, into a sudden consternation and apprehension that was consuming her anxiety.

'I must have torn it, while I was doing the rooms! It is a common occurrence daily—for we are constantly cleaning, sir!'

'Quite understood!'

'Where did you find it?'

'In the room of the Lady Arrington, Miss Biggins, which you were in. Now, are you going to deny you were in the room on that night the Lady Arrington was mercilessly murdered?'

'This is a mere circumstantial and fanciful supposition in your part. Are you linking me to the murder, Mr Whitby? If so, you know that this piece of garment will not condemn me!'

'Perhaps, but there is more!'

She was about to exit the room, when he made her stop, with his revelations.

'What do you mean by that, Mr Whitby?'

'I have documentation proving your false signature. You attempted to falsify the Lady Arrington's signature in several occasions, with your withdrawals Miss Biggins. The question I have is, why?'

'Mere insinuations, Mr Whitby!'

'Not the case Miss Biggins! You fail to acknowledge the participation of your accomplice, Lord Greenfield. I found his silver cigarette case in the room as well'.

Her countenance was a listless and pallid representation of incredulity for a moment, then she uttered, 'You can't prove it, the cigarette case could belong to anyone, Mr Whitby'.

'Asprey, is known for the nobleman's choice, such as Lord Greenfield'.

'Rubbish!'

'I doubt it is a mere coincidence, since there are witnesses, who saw Lord Greenfield with that exact brand!'

'What do you want?'

'The truth of what happened that night'.

'I told you already what I saw!'

'Mr Duvauchelle was not the last person, who was in the room, Lord Greenfield was. He had a previous heated confrontation with Mr Duvauchelle on that night about his passionate affair with the Lady Arrington, in which he had threatened him. He waited for them to return from the theatre. The door was locked and only you the chambermaid had the key. Lord Greenfield was waiting in the bathroom, whilst Mr Duvauchelle and the Lady Arrington were arguing. Most likely their argument was about Mr Duvauchelle's confrontation with Lord Greenfield. After Mr Duvauchelle had finished, he stormed out and went to the Murray's. Lord Greenfield had attacked the Lady Arrington, when the door was closed by her, not knowing that her killer was nigh. In the attack, there was a struggle that had caused Lord Greenfield to drop his cigarette case. You who were in the adjacent room had heard everything. Since the door was open, you knew that Mr Duvauchelle would pass within the corridor afterwards. You entered the room and had attempted to clean the evidence. It was the perfect crime, except for one thing that you forgot'.

'What was that, Mr Whitby?'

'You forgot the cigarette case!'

'What will happen now?'

'Lord Greenfield will be arrested, for the murder of the Lady Arrington'.

'No, it was not him, but I who killed her! She did not love him as I did! Do not blame him! I am the guilty one. She did not love him! She had caroused in lechery, with that low life of Mr Duvauchelle! He is to blame for all of this!'

This was the last thing uttered by her, before the police officers who were in the other room listening to the conversation had entered to arrest Miss Biggins. She was taken into custody and transported to the Police Station. Lord Greenfield was then arrested in Devonshire, and Mr Whitby had returned to give Mr Duvauchelle the wondrous tidings of his immediate release and exoneration of the murder of the Lady Arrington.

Mr Duvauchelle was exceedingly a joyous and thankful man to be freed that the first thing that he did was shake Mr Whitby's hand and offer him a cigarette, as a token sign of his immense appreciation. Mr Whitby told him that he had done his job, as he had pledged in his duty ere. Miss Schiller had shortly arrived and was informed of Mr Duvauchelle's release. They had spent the night at the Murray's celebrating, and Mr Whitby was their bidden guest. Miss Schiller's cabaret act was performing one last night at the Murray's. That night afterwards Mr Whitby had experienced a queer phantasmagoria that had disturbed him, as he instantly awoke. The nightmare had involved Mr Duvauchelle, and he saw the face of Miss Biggins pleading for her innocence.

The following morning when he had awakened in a deep sweat, he was consumed with the thought of speaking to Miss Biggins. Mr Whitby had headed to the Police Station, where she was detained and he was informed of her tragic suicide. Apparently, she had hanged herself and was found stone dead, but she left behind a letter that was addressed to Mr Whitby that he had intuited was her confession to the murder. He knew she was not the murderer, instead Lord Greenfield. When he had read the contents, they were not the words of a confession, but a letter from Mr Duvauchelle to Miss Schiller describing how they had planned to kill the Lady Arrington and frame Lord Greenfield for the murder. There were details that only the criminal mastermind would know. Mr Whitby was stunned by the obfuscation as he tried to understand what this meant, and he had doubted the veracity of this letter, but the ink and handwriting was not identical to that of Miss Biggins.

He had departed the Police Station, with complete uncertainty of what was transpiring. As he got into the cab to head to Piccadilly, a gentleman had handed him the correspondence that was sent by the private investigator that had been investigating the participants in the case, as he had requested. When he had perused the contents of his correspondence, he was in utter shock that he remained motionless. According to the investigation, the Lady Arrington had included in her will, Mr Duvauchelle. Upon her death he would inherit her entire wealth, yet there were even more ghastly revelations about Mr Duvauchelle, referring to his anonymous past in France and during the time of the Great War. Mr Duvauchelle had been discharged from the Army, due to his mental disorder that was diagnosed as an acute madness. There was a thorough report attached to the letter written in French that Mr Whitby had understood. Mr Duvauchelle had been interned in Paris, until he had escaped the asylum he was being treated at, for his condition of hallucinatory episodes. Mr Duvauchelle had killed his father and his mother. Mr Whitby had discovered in the report that his identical twin brother, who also suffered the same mental illness had not died, as Mr Duvauchelle had stated before. Duvauchelle was his maiden name, and Bouvier was his last name. Mr Whitby's heart beat fast and his breath shortened, as he had finished reading.

There was another shocking revelation that would alter his perception of the authenticity of the facts of the murder dramatically. Mr Cantrelle was found shot dead in Paris. He was found in a solitary cul-de-sac, with a bullet to his head. Once Mr Whitby comprehended the magnitude that these revelations had signified, he came to the eventual conclusion that he had committed a grievous mistake and injustice. He began to recall the duplicitous gestures manifested at times of Mr Duvauchelle. Verily, he had freed the actual killer of the Lady Arrington, who he had been present with the night before, at the Murray's.

He had headed forthwith to the nightclub to enquire about Miss Schiller's immediate whereabouts. She was not there. When he headed to her residence, he was told by a neighbour that she had left the city. When he had asked, whither did she go, the neighbour did not know, because Miss Schiller did not mention her destination. He thought of Mr Duvauchelle's address. When he had arrived, he was told that there was no Jean Pierre Duvauchelle who lived nor had lived there previously. He began to bethink himself where could they be, since neither Mr Duvauchelle or Miss Schiller had spoken to him, about their future? Then, he thought of the train station, and he took the first cab he saw there and had checked every possible departure from London to other cities. He checked the passenger's list and inside the prepared compartments, but to no avail—they were not aboard. He had remembered France, where Mr Duvauchelle was from originally, and he headed in a train to the port of Dover, and he did not locate them. They had simply vanished from Metropolitan London. Mr Whitby could not admit his horrible mistake, until he spoke to Lord Greenfield, who was being detained at the Police Station.

When he had arrived, he was informed by the police officer that Lord Greenfield had committed suicide as well. He had taken a cyanide tablet that was secretly brought to him the day before. There were two deceased persons, though guilty of the crime of passion were innocent of the crime of murder. For years, Mr Whitby was haunted by the deaths of Miss Biggins and Lord Greenfield that he had refrained from taking any more cases, as a solicitor, barrister or attorney for some time. The redoubtable horror of this horrendous error had redounded an irreversible consequence.

Five years would elapse, until he found Miss Schiller once more. He was in Paris, inside a nightclub that will not be mentioned. There, as he was seated near the edge of the stage, he saw the image of Miss Schiller. His eyes lit up with excitement, as he waited impatiently, for her to finish her performance. Afterwards, he had approached her, as she walked past him. Her expression upon seeing him was of an obvious disbelief. They sat down in a lone table, where they could speak in privacy. Then, they naturally spoke about the murders. She had feared that Mr Whitby had come for her arrest. He told her that all depended on what she had confessed really occurred that night of the horrific murder of the Lady Arrington. She agreed to confess and disclose everything that had appertained to the mysterious sequence of events that led to the murder.

'It all began the prior night at the Murray's, when Jean Pierre had entered with his twin brother Philippe, who I had met before. Jean Pierre started to explain his detailed and preconceived plan to us'.

'When you say us, what do you mean?'

'I mean me, Jean Pierre, Philippe and Charles'.

'Then what?'

'Jean Pierre had convinced us that if we killed the Lady Arrington, he would inherit her wealth and distribute it amongst us'.

'Explain to me the sequence of the murder!'

'Jean Pierre had ordered his brother to remain in the nightclub, so that people would believe that he was at the nightclub, not at the room of the Lady Arrington, when the murder was committed'.

'How many persons knew about Philippe?'

'No one except Charles and I. The musicians and cabaret dancers come and go, Mr Whitby. They don't exactly remember the faces of the people'.

'Then, what?'

'Jean Pierre had been with the Lady Arrington at the Ritz Hotel. They had planned to go to the St James Theatre, without much incident, but Lord Greenfield had been informed by Miss Biggins about their plan to go to the theatre. He had arrived and confronted Jean Pierre and they argued'.

'About what, Miss Schiller?'

'About Jean Pierre's love affair, with the Lady Arrington'.

'Then?'

'Jean Pierre and the Lady Arrington had returned to the hotel from the theatre. They were arguing, about their situation'.

'What do you mean?'

'She wanted to end the relationship, because she had discovered our affair'.

'By that you mean you and Mr Duvauchelle?'

'Yes!'

'Go on!'

'He had begged her to reconsider, since she was a sentimental person, but she rejected him and that was when he killed her. Although he had planned on killing her, it was not planned on that night'.

'How did he kill her, with what?'

'He had waited until she turned her back, and choked her to death, with his hands'.

'Then, what happened next?'

'He scurried out of the room, but not before he had dropped his cigarette case'.

'A silver cigarette case?'

'Yes!'

'Miss Biggins who had been in the other room listening had entered and found the body of the Lady Arrington. Unknown to her at the time, she had torn her dress and a piece had been entangled in the bedstead. Mr Duvauchelle was unaware that Miss Biggins was there in that room and of her auditory sense. He had used this deceptitious ruse to effectuate his calculated plan. It was the archetype of a perfect crime Mr Whitby, when the facts can be easily manipulated, within the arbitrary notion of the truth.

'There are several things that I have not yet deciphered'.

'What is that?'

'Who killed Mr Cantrelle?'

'It was Jean Pierre!'

'Where can I find him and his twin brother at presently? Are they in Paris?'

She stared into his eyes and had professed, 'They are dead!'

Mr Whitby was shocked to hear her revelation, but he was not certain that she was telling him the truth, 'How did they die? How do I know, you are not lying Miss Schiller?'

'I killed Jean Pierre with the same gun, he had killed the others!

'And Philippe?'

'He murdered him too, out of his irrepressible avarice. The typical lucrative agenda of profitable enterprise. However, their financial situation had changed. Jean Pierre could not claim the inheritance of the Lady Arrington. There were appeals made by the family, who had contested the will. Jean Pierre betrayed me Mr Whitby and I had enough. He was an evil man, but I suppose that makes me an evil woman for killing him—does it not, Mr Whitby?'

'I would call it a justifiable revenge of accountability!'

'I prefer justice! You see, Mr Whitby, Jean Pierre had raped and murdered my sister, after the war. I had planned this since the beginning'.

'Then, it is justice, the moral edification of society!'

Mr Whitby had looked into her eyes and saw this cogent plea for compassion.

'What will happen to me next, Mr Whitby? Have you come to arrest me, for my involvement in the murder?'

'No, the case is over! I have not seen you, moreover, I am only a barrister now'.

She sighed a great relief and had smiled. She thanked him as they shook hands, 'I thank you!'

'Thank you, for ridding the earth of this devious madman!'

She rose to her feet and had excused herself afterwards. It was time for her artistic act. The last aspectable image Mr Whitby had of Miss Schiller was her performance with the cabaret dancers, who were aligned side to side to her. He departed the nightclub and Paris and had returned to London, with the satisfaction of knowing that the duplicitous craven Mr Duvauchelle had met the same fate of his inconsiderate victims. At times, the truth is apposite to the aposteriori investigation, when it is a prerequisite for the paragon of a murder. The worst connivance ever committed by Mr Duvauchelle was the disparate crime of the impardonable sin attained.

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