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garage where he kept his car and they find that he took it out shortly after midnight and told a mechanic that he was unable to sleep because of the heat, and was going to try and get a breath of air in the Bois. He returned after two in the morning.’
    ‘Which,’ observed Barnett, ‘gave him plenty of time to drive out here, saw through the bridge, and get back to Paris. And what the maid heard was Monsieur Lenormand switching off his light when he really went to bed at last. Both servants must have been asleep when he slipped out of the flat.’
    The doctor looked at Barnett in some curiosity, for he spoke in such an assured tone and was so obviously no subordinate of Inspector Béchoux.
    Barnett smiled and bowed easily.
    ‘Allow me to remedy my friend Béchoux’s deplorable lack of manners. Jim Barnett, at your service, doctor.’
    ‘A friend of mine, who has helped me on more than one occasion,’ said Béchoux, not so easily. ‘Come, doctor, what news have you for me after your confidential interview with the bank manager at Beauvray?’
    ‘Poor Monsieur Lenormand.’ The doctor shook his head sadly. ‘I wish it had been a policeman who had found it out. But justice cannot be cheated. I have established that for the past two years Monsieur Lenormand has from time to time paid quite large cheques into the banking account of Professor Saint-Prix.’
    ‘Blackmail?’ Barnett and Béchoux came out with the word simultaneously.
    ‘There we have at least the motive!’ cried Béchoux, in purely professional triumph. ‘Monsieur Lenormand must have had a very good reason for sawing through that bridge‭—’
    ‘But he did not do it!’
    A young woman, deathly pale, wearing a brilliant Chinese wrap, was coming slowly down the stairs into the hall, clutching at the banister for support. A maid followed anxiously behind her.
    ‘I repeat,’ she said in a voice trembling with suppressed emotion, ‘Louis is innocent!’
    ‘Madame,’ said Béchoux, ‘allow me to present my friend, Jim Barnett.’ Barnett bowed low. ‘If any one can achieve the impossible and establish your husband’s innocence, it is he! I admit, however, that I originally brought him here because your husband’s alibi upset all my deductions. Now that alibi no longer holds, and I have no objection if Barnett transfers his assistance to you. Provided’—he grew thoughtful and did not finish his sentence.
    ‘Oh,’ cried Madame Lenormand, taking Barnett’s hands impulsively in hers, ‘save my husband, and I will give you any reward you care to name.’
    Barnett shook his head.
    ‘I ask no reward, madame, beyond the privilege of serving you. Never shall it be said that the Barnett Agency descended to base commercialism in accepting a fee for its labours.’

4
    At this point a gendarme came running in from the garden with a pair of rubber boots.
    ‘Where did you find those?’ asked Béchoux.
    ‘In a garden shed at the back of the grounds of the villa.’
    The boots were covered in fresh mud. In this sweltering weather the only moisture on the ground would be along the channel of the stream. Cécile Lenormand gave a sharp exclamation.
    ‘Your husband’s?’
    She nodded reluctantly.
    ‘Well,’ said Barnett, ‘let’s go and have a look at the stream—and we ought to take those with us. À bientôt , madame.’
    Béchoux and Barnett, accompanied by the doctor and the gendarme, walked through the garden and down to the stream. The water was running swiftly over the rocks below.
    Béchoux looked unwillingly at the muddy foothold below the broken bridge, and then at his shining new patent leather shoes topped by snowy spats.
    ‘I’ll do it!’ cried Barnett gallantly, and, seizing a boot from Béchoux, he leapt down, so that he sank ankle-deep in the mud beside the torrent.
    ‘Are there any marks?’ asked the doctor eagerly.
    ‘Yes,’ said Barnett. ‘And they were made by these boots!’
    ‘A clear case!’ said Béchoux. ‘I