magistrate, to shed light on the death of the Marquis de Brindillac. If he did die of fright, we have to find out whatfrightened him. The Préfecture has been asked to discreetly reopen the Ducros file. The news hasn’t been made public so as not to give the impression the writer of the article was right but the press will find out soon enough. Ah! It’s a nice snub to the Préfet de Police!’
‘Why isn’t the Préfecture dealing with the Brindillac case?’ I asked, handing back the newspaper.
‘It’s a question of divisional authority. The Préfecture only covers Paris and the Seine département . As the Marquis died in his château in Seine-et-Oise, it’s the Sûreté’s responsibility.’
‘And have you been able to find out any more about the poet’s death?’
‘I’ve just left Préfecture headquarters. I had to move heaven and earth to get access to the report but good heavens! I wasn’t going to leave before they showed it to me. In fact the case is similar to the Marquis’s in all respects. Young Ducros died in his sleep, suddenly, as though gripped by extreme fear. The sheets were tangled as if he had tried to fight or free himself from some powerful pressure. But, according to the doctor who came to certify the death, there were no injuries, marks or obvious lesions on his body. His sister, who slept in the next room, had heard him groan in his sleep. She had got up and noticed that he was dreaming. His health was delicate. Those close to him described him as depressive, nervous, tormented, and of a weak constitution. His heart may have given out as a result of an extraordinary kind of hallucination. In those circumstances, his death, however distressing, was not entirely incomprehensible. To put it crudely, he had been living on borrowed time!’
‘Was there an autopsy?’
‘Yes but there again, the results aren’t particularly revealing. The toxicology examination didn’t indicate the presence of any narcotic substances. It’s a pity – that would have solved the problem.’
‘It’s certainly very strange.’
‘In both cases, one thing is certain: the victims died of sudden heart failure related to an unusually intense fear. The doctors called to the scene thought as much and the pathologists confirmed it. So, if they died of fright, well, for heaven’s sake, there must be a reason!’
‘Is it possible to die from a nightmare?’ I wondered aloud, trying to imagine the face of someone stricken by terror in his sleep.
‘I’m not sure about that, but I am sure that the Brindillac case can no longer be considered in isolation. Now the problem must be examined from every angle. It won’t take much for the Sûreté to be accused of botching the job too.’
‘From every angle? So you’re not excluding criminal activity?’
‘Now don’t get carried away, Singleton! Tell me how a murderer could have entered the Marquis’s bedroom. Let me remind you that the doors to his rooms were locked from the inside and the windows too. And as for Ducros, his sister was sleeping next door. If anyone had broken in, she would have realised.’
‘Like me, you read detective novels, Superintendent. The crime is often committed in a locked room: no one can enter, no one can leave and yet someone has been killed.’
‘That is certainly commonplace in England but it is less common here, I can assure you. What’s more, my friend, in your novels things are clear-cut. The victim is found poisoned, stabbed or shot. There are three drops of blood indicating that a crime has been committed. But there’s nothing like that here. In the pathologists’ reports no mention is made of any violence against the scientist or the man of letters.’
‘Was Ducros’s flat locked?’
‘Double locked.’
The superintendent drummed his fingers on the newspaper. ‘This reporter has managed to create havoc! As if we didn’t have enough problems already with the controversy over the death of MinisterBarthou
Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child