 The weird circle. In this cave, by the restless sea, we are met to call from out the past stories, strange and weird. Bellkeeper, hold the bell, so all may know we are gathered again in the weird circle. Out of the past, phantoms of a world gone by speak again the immortal tale, the murder of the little pig. Down, coquette. Down, I say, now go to your corner. Welcome in, Miss Ilohan. This is a surprise. Excuse my dropping in like this, Miss Ilohan, but I must see you. Yes, of course. It's a pretty tough customer you got there. Coquette? Oh, she's only bluffing. Please make yourself comfortable. Now, coquette, stay in your corner. Coquette? Isn't that the dog that was the principal witness in your last case? Yes, and if she only could have talked, I would have not had such a difficult time. But you've come to see me about something, my friend. What is it? Well, you know, Lecoque, I've been plaguing you for years to let me write up some of your interesting criminal cases. You, you know, are probably the most popular citizen of Paris. Oh, no. Oh, yes, you are. Certainly the greatest detective of our time. Why, people, weigh your least word. Just imagine how they devour one of your stories, fiction-eyed. But now, now you aren't putting me off any longer. My paper says get Lecoque's stories or get out. You don't want to see me lose my job. Oh, hardly. All right, my young friend Lehan, you veered at me at last in my own den. But I've known a lifetime of crime. Where would I begin? Well, what about your last case, which involved the dog, Coquette? Indeed, why not? That was a baffling mystery. It had a strange, unearthly element, which has never been explained. And it sent it around a very pretty woman. Well, it sounds made of water. And by the way, how did you happen to acquire the dog? That's part of the story. We'll come to that. Now, let me think a bit about this story. Maybe I should refer to my notes. It's file number 23. Yes, and here it is. The murder of the little pig. Well, does one murder pays? This comes here. You know how Parisians are. They're forever giving names to people whose appearance or personality reminds them of animals. In French criminal history, we've had the wolf, the fox, the rabbit, the leopard, the stroll, and the little hairdresser Henri Coudre was called the little pig. Well, it was past midnight when I received word to hurry to the rue Battignale. That murder had been done. When I arrived, the police commissioner took me to the scene of the crime. And there, on the bedroom floor, the body lay in a position in which it had fallen. Well, there's little for you to do in this case, Lecote. All Henri Coudre called the little pig has been stabbed to death, and we know who the murderer is. Well, that's pretty fast work, isn't it? Or was the murderer caught in the act? No, the murdered man himself enlightened us. Look, look down the floor beside the body. Say, that's a name written in blood on the parquet floor. It's a gruesome sight, isn't it? What is the word? It's M-O-N-I-S. Monish, the first half of the name Monistro, nephew of the murdered man. A little pig died before he could finish the name, but he gave us enough. You see, Jean Monistro is the sole heir to Coudre's large fortune. What a cinch of a case. You think the old man started to write the name of his murderer in his own blood? What else is there to think? Well, I don't know. Have you noticed the expression on the face of the corpse? Death must have been instantaneous because Coudre died calm and smiling. His assailant must have been known to him. Of course Coudre knew his own nephew. But only a hope of revenge could have given so much energy to a dying old man. Imagine how desperately he would struggle to write the name, why every second would count. He knew his life was expiring. And have you noticed something else, Commissioner? The name is written on the right side of the body. And written with the forefinger of the right hand. Oh, come now, LeCouc. This is a simple case. Don't try to make something complicated out of you. I'll convince you. I want you to hear the testimony of the caretaker. Jacques, come in here a minute. Yes, Monsieur. Will you tell Monsieur LeCouc what happened last evening? Oh, yes, Monsieur. Gladly, it was about nine o'clock when the little pig's nephew, Jean Monistro, came to see his uncle. Did you see Monistro face to face? Well, no, Monsieur. You see, my apartment is on the first floor. And Jean had already started to walk up the stairs when I looked out my door. Oh, so then you only saw the man's back? Well, yes, Monsieur. But he had on a suit I had seen Jean wear time and time again. If I did not see his face, I did see his little black dog, Coucette. Our chief witness, LeCouc, is the little black dog. Or it was he who witnessed the murder. Well, tell me, Jacques, exactly what happened? Well, Monsieur, nothing really happened. I saw Jean going upstairs and the dog, Coucette, taking along behind. That was at nine o'clock. And then at about nine thirty... I'm a great one to look at my watch, Monsieur. At nine thirty, I heard the entrance door open and I saw Jean Monistro leave the building with the dog. Commissioner, what time do you fix the murder? Between nine fifteen and nine thirty. Well, Jacques, did you see Jean Monistro's face as he left the house? Well, no, Monsieur. I only saw his back. But I would swear it was Jean Monistro. Well, there's no doubt it was Jean Monistro who killed his uncle to get his inheritance. I've ordered my men to arrest Monistro. Yes. Commissioner, have you observed that the night table is on the left side of the bed? And there's a newspaper that drops to the left of that chair. And an empty wine glass on the left of the desk. Oh, go home and go to bed, LeCocque. I'm not going to let you make a mystery out of this plain, simple case. I know, but I can't reconcile the peaceful, smiling expression on the face of the corpse without writing on the floor in blood. I feel in my bones that Jean Monistro is innocent. Come in, come in. Commissioner, we've arrested Jean Monistro. Have any trouble with him? No, Monsieur. Monistro has confessed to the crime. Well, I left the scene of the crime with my opinion unchanged. Though, indeed, my face should have been red, what with my innocent Jean confessing. And the first witnesses I examined only strengthened the state's case to establish his guilt. Really? Yes. I talked first to Marie, wiper Jacques, the caretaker. Marie, I believe, was an habitual eavesdropper. In any case, three days before the murder, Jean and his wife Clara called on the little pig Coudre and listening in the hall. Marie overheard the uncle say... So you visit your old uncle in the middle of the week? I've heard of such a thing. I don't tell me you're getting so fond of me that you can't wait and tell your usual Sunday visit. We've come to see you about something special, dear uncle, aren't we? Not that we don't want to see you at any time. Well, well, you don't say. You'd ever express yourselves in such affectionate terms before. You must want something. Well, out with it, out with it. My friends are waiting for me at the café for my usual glass of wine and game of cards. I can't keep them waiting all night. Well, you see, uncle, business is not going very well with me. How can you run a jewelry business, uncle, without plenty of stock? Jean simply can't design and make decent pieces. Yes, I don't have enough stock on hand, not enough variety in jewels and not enough general equipment. And now I have a chance to buy a jeweler's stock at the Pally Royal for 100,000 francs. 100,000 francs? Yes. That's a very great deal of money, Jean. Took me many years to save that much money. But you wouldn't miss it, uncle, and it'll put Jean on his feet. On his feet? Or on his head? I'm not really concerned where Jean finds himself, my dear Clara. After my death, you too may throw away my money as you see fit. But until death closes these eyes, I intend to keep my money and enjoy it. Yes, all of it. No wonder you're called a little pig. Clara, hold your temper. Why should I? At last I'm going to tell him what I really think of him. You were even more beautiful, Madame Clara, when you were angry. But you should watch your words. I just might take it into my head to leave all my lovely money to a foundation for stray cats. I don't care what you do with it. The money will do us no good, and we're too old to enjoy it. We need a hundred thousand francs now. Oh, come, Clara, it's no use. Jean is wise, Clara. I could be in part with a hundred thousand francs. I've worked so hard to earn. Worked so hard to earn. All Paris knows how you earned your fortune. For rich, silly women whose hair you dressed talked too much, didn't they? I told you enough so that you could find out more. And you blackmailed them. One after the other, you blackmailed them. Oh, uncle, don't pay any attention to Clara. If you know how impulsive she is, she doesn't know what she's saying. I'm too old to hold grudges. Well, come now, my friends at the café are waiting. Night, children. Good night. Watch the stairs. The hall is dark. Big, little pig. Oh, what a bee. You nearly tripped me. What are you doing out here in the hall? Oh, mirror cleaning up, Madame. It's time of night. What do you take me for? Well, I'm glad you know now what kind of a man, dear Uncle Ory, is. Come along, Clara, you said enough. Marie, when you bring up Uncle's café au lait in the morning, put a little arse-nick in it for me, will you? God, Madame, are you dark? Well, I hate the little pig. I'd kill him if I could. Come, Clara, come. You shouldn't say such things. Well, Marie's story made my theory of Jean's innocence seem very weak indeed. She plays all. Still, I insisted that when Jean left his uncle's house that night, he was not as yet a man driven to murder. Why, Jean wasn't even angry. But he was not temperamentally the type to murder in cold blood. Let me say, but Lehan, early in the morning after the murder, a surprise witness brought the guillotine even nearer to Jean Monistreau. A well-dressed matron, Madame Dupont, told us this story. On the day previous, at some ten hours or so before the crime, Madame Dupont went to Jean Monistreau's shop in the Rue Vivier. Ah, good morning, Madame Dupont. Good morning, Monsieur Monistreau. I am returning the bracelet. Oh, is there anything wrong? I thought I had repaired it very skillfully. This is not the bracelet I brought to you, Monsieur. You have substituted paste for my genuine stones. Oh, I've done no such thing. I'll let you look at them through my glass. I see you are right. These are substitutes. Oh, I swear to you, Madame, I don't know how it happened. I don't know what to say. Perhaps your wife will know what to say. What do you mean by that, Madame? Your wife was in the shop yesterday when I called for the bracelet. I thought she acted very strangely. She avoided looking at me and was eager for me to leave. She is not a good thief, Monsieur. But I can't believe that Clara would do such a thing. Well, if you didn't remove the stones, Monsieur, who else except your wife had the opportunity? No one. No one. Clara knows the work well enough to make the substitutions herself. Oh, I see it all. Poor Clara's been worried half sick. We need money and my uncle refused to help us. Clara did this thing for me. You love your wife very much, don't you, Monsieur? Oh, yes, very much, Madame. I swear I'll get the jewels back for you. Please, please don't go to the police. Why do you think I've come to you, Monsieur? I could have gone at once to the police. But I am a sentimental woman and I have eyes in my head. One doesn't often see a man so much in love with his wife. Oh, then you will promise to wait a little. I'll get the jewels back for you. But what if she's already sold them? What if she spent the money? Can you buy such valuable jewels? Don't worry, Madame. I'll get the money. I'll get it somehow. And so you see, Lahan, Madame Dupont furnished the state with the strongest possible motive in the case against Jean Monistreau. Yes, I see. But doubt is to his guilt persistently tugged at my mind. It was still early morning and Jean had not been examined since his confession on the previous night. I wanted to get to him before he became exhausted and confused with the questions of others. I found Jean sullen in his cell and unwilling to talk. I have nothing to say, Monsieur. I've confessed what more do you want? But why did you confess, Jean? That's a quick question. I guess the answer is I'm a man who doesn't know how to hold out. I hadn't gotten away with a murder. I think... Jean, where did you buy the revolver you used? I had it in my possession a long time. Years, I guess. What did you do with it after you killed your uncle? I threw it into the Sain. Your little black dog, Coquette, misses you, Jean. She won't eat. I wish I could have her here with me. She was a one-man dog. Coquette followed me everywhere. Please go now, Monsieur. I've no more to say to you. I left Jean now convinced that he was innocent. But where in all Paris would I find the guilty one? I decided next to go to the Rue Vivienne and call on Madame Clara. What can I do for you, Monsieur? No one is here. I mean to say poor Monsieur is away and Madame is just leaving. Well, who are you, young woman? A civil Madame's maid. Now, if you wish to leave an order, if you wish to buy an order... I'm not here to buy, mademoiselle. I am the co-op of the police department. I must speak to Madame on an extra... Oh, my goodness, Monsieur, right away. Madame! Madame! I'm right here, civil. I heard what the gentleman said. Down, Coquette. Go back. Go back in the room. Take him with you, sir. Come on, don't, Coquette. That's the dog. Well, you have a very good watchdog, Madame. Jewelers keep good watchdogs, Monsieur. Does your dog never make up to strangers? No, never. Coquette really only likes my husband. Why are you here? I heard you say you're from the police department. Yes. Here is my identification. I see. Well, perhaps you know I've received a summons to appear at court this afternoon for examination. I must leave in a few moments. Yes, I know, but I wanted to speak to you before you left. Do you think your husband is innocent, Madame? I'm sure of it. John couldn't kill a fly. So it has seemed to me. What type to kill even a fly? But you know that your husband has confessed. I'm sure that John has convinced that I killed his uncle. He knew how I hated Uncle Henri. And then I, uh... Well, I did something foolish, Monsieur. Oh? We needed money, and I borrowed some jewels. I believe that John found it out. But he didn't know that I still have the jewels, and I'm going to give them back to Madame Dupont. I'm sure he thought I was desperate but I'd sold the jewels, spent the money, and then got frightened and killed his uncle, whom I hated, so that we could get the inheritance. You have your husband's reasoning pretty well figured out, haven't you, Madame? Oh, but I know John so well. Did you kill his uncle? No, Monsieur. And I have three witnesses that I was home that night. It was hot, and I asked three neighbor ladies in to have ice cream with me. They were here from nine o'clock till after ten. Well, if you have three witnesses, you need a perfect alibi. But where was your husband at that time? Well, it's quite unfortunate, but John went to see a workman about making some artificial pearls. Everything was unlucky that night for John. The workman wasn't at home, and I haven't been able to find anyone who saw John all evening. What time did he leave the house? About 8.30. He came home about 10.30. I know what you're thinking. John was away at exactly the right time for him to have gone to his uncle's apartment and returned. But I know John's innocent. I know it. Where was the dog during the evening? Coquette? It's a funny question. Well, I... I didn't notice where the dog went. Still, I believe Coquette followed her master. Yes, yes, I'm sure she must have followed John. Lehan, Madame Clara was from first to last a mystery to me. When I left the shop, I decided to question Madame Clara's neighbours and find out what they thought of her. They talked readily. Madame Clara has admirers, lots of admirers. I don't know anything about her, Madame. She drove her husband to the crime. That's what I think. Yes, she had lots of admirers, but who can say one thing wrong about her? And while talking to Madame Clara's neighbours, the idea came to me which I was sure would put me on the trail I was seeking. What was that? I couldn't leave the house so I knew I could find the maid, Sybil, alone when I returned to the shop. Oh, Monsieur Madame has left. Oh, well, that's unfortunate. Madame gave me the name of a friend of hers and I've lost the card it was written on. Now, a bright girl like you wouldn't be so careless, would you, Sybil? Monsieur, you have a good memory. You remembered my name. I couldn't easily forget. The name goes with such a pretty face. Monsieur, now you joke with me. You know, Sybil, I'm entirely sincere before such youthful charm. And I can see how bright you are, too. I'll bet you can tell me the name of that gentleman. You know, he's the only man beside Monsieur Monistro himself, the only other person the dog coquette would follow. Oh, you mean Monsieur Victor? Exactly. Victor, how silly of me to forget such a simple name. And his address was... Oh, let me... Oh, Soudori, number 23. It's not far from here. Yes, yes, of course. It's hard to account for the affections of animals, isn't it? Now, coquette is unfriendly to everyone, so I'm told, to everyone outside the immediate family, and yet she's so friendly with Monsieur Victor that she would actually follow him. Oh, will you see, Monsieur Victor used to own coquette, but he gave her as a present to Madame and Monsieur Monistro because they needed a watchdog. Oh, but coquette still loves her former master. She often visits him. Well, that's a quaint habit, isn't it? But I suppose the Monistros must lock up the dog and doesn't go off visiting at night. No, they don't bother to lock her up if they're staying home. A coquette often runs over to Monsieur Victor's after supper around seven and doesn't come back before ten. That is, if she can get out. Now, this week, coquette's been a regular gadabout. She's been over to Monsieur Victor's every single night. I knew before I was out of the room to the end the course of action I would take. It was bold, but it would save weeks of investigation. As you know, Lohan, it's in my character to take risks. And when I'm near the solution of the case, I'm inclined to be dramatic. Yes, I know. And especially in a case like this where the evidence is purely circumstantial. Well, it took three days to study the house and the habits of Monsieur Victor and to make other careful preparations. But it was an uncanny and strange circumstance that finally turned the case. On the fourth night, according to plan, Monsieur Victor was kept out very late. When he reached his apartment, he went to bed promptly and then to sleep very quickly, for he had been drinking a great deal of wine. But presently, Monsieur Victor was awakened by a voice by an unforgettable voice. Monsieur Victor, wake up. Wake up, Monsieur Victor. Who are you? You know who I am well enough. I am Henri Coudre, the old man you murdered. Go away, little pig. Leave me in peace. Why do you come every night like this? Why do you stand there and look at me like that with a ghastly smile on the... cutting your throat? Go away, go away! No, Monsieur. It's no good hiding your head. I will come back and come back until I have driven you out of your mind. But what do you want? What do you want? Why? Why did you kill me? Any man has a right to know why he was killed? If I tell you, will you go away? Will you promise never to come back? Yes, I promise. Now tell me, and I will stay quite silently dead. All right. All right, I'll tell you. I love Clara. I dressed like Jean, took the dog coquette to your house and killed you. And now Jean will go to the guillotine. Clara will inherit your money and in time we shall be married. I killed three birds with one stone. Got rid of you and Jean and Clara will have your money. Very clever, Monsieur Victor. And you wrote part of Jean's last name in my blood on the floor, didn't you? Yes, yes, that finished it. Now go back, go back to your grave and stay there. All right, men, grab him. You're under arrest, Louis Victor. Go and turn up the lights. What is this? All right, now his handcuff. Well, Danton, that was a very good performance. Well, thank you, Le Coq. It was a pleasure. Who? Who is that man? He's the image of Henri Coudre. This is Philippe Danton from the Comédie Française. A very good actor. Well rehearsed and perfectly made up. You know, I'm almost ashamed to work this ancient trick. Having an actor pretend to be a ghost. But it did work. You had little to do with the success of your trick. The little pig, Henri Coudre, made your trick work. Are you trying to tell me that a dead man helped us? I believe he did. For the last three nights, I dreamt a vivid dream. The same dream each night. I dreamt that Henri Coudre stood at the foot of my bed exactly as I saw this actor. Coudre did not speak in my dream, but when I heard his voice tonight, I was not surprised. I believe my dream had come true, that the apparition was really there and to know why I'd killed him that if I told him he would go and leave me in peace. Are you really telling me the truth that you actually dreamed of seeing Henri Coudre as you saw the actor Danton tonight? What reason do I have to lie? You've got my confession now. It was not you, but the little pig, Henri Coudre, who trapped me. And so, Monsieur Lahan, that is my file number 23. Do you think it will give you a good story? Good story. It's amazing. Oh, by the way, you haven't told me how you came by the door. Coquette. Oh, Coquette, come here. Let me leave you a quarter now. Come here, girl. Jean Monistre was so grateful to me for releasing him from facing the guillotine that he insisted on giving me his dearest possession. Coquette. She's a fine little dog. Yes. You know, I'm afraid I'd make a poor detective. I lost sight of some of your clues. Now, what made you so sure that Jean Monistre was innocent? Well, sometimes the things that are not seen are near enough to put the eyes out. You remember how I had observed that the night table, water, wine glass, and so on were all at the left side for convenience? But the letters we found on the floor, M-O-N-I-S, were at the right of the body, written with the right hand. Well, I later confirmed my first impression that Coquette was left-handed. And besides, the police commissioner had greeted me with the information that Coquette had been stabbed. But later, I asked Jean and his cell what he had done with the revolver, and he answered that he had thrown it into the river saying, Well, I suppose Clara was convicted as Victor's accomplice, wasn't she? No, we suspected her, but suspicions are not truth. She denied knowing of Victor's affection for her, and we could get absolutely nothing against her. But always I have wondered, was Clara merely a clever, discreet woman and a good actress? Was she Victor's accomplice? What do you think?