Evening Star Newspaper, September 8, 1929, Page 104

of Alex Couturier, aStory Taken From the Police Archives at Lyon, France. EVALLOIS came into my laboratmy with water streaming from his everlasting raincoat and cap and shook himself for all the world like a big dog. “What a beastly climate this town has,” he growled. “You, as a Londoner, should feel at home here. Thank heaven we never get this in Carcassonne, where I was born.” I laughed at his quaint appearance. “You are mistaken if you think London is as bad as this,” I replied; “we have plenty of variety in the old town, but it doesn’t rain all the time. What are you busy on now?” “Oh, a queer case. I don’'t know what to make of it yet. We had the visit of a lady named Mme. Leonce Couturier some days 3go. Her husband has disappeared. They had not been married very long and she is still very much in love with him. It seems that abso- lutely nothing happened to account for his leaving her. His business is prosperous and he had no worries, so far as she knows. No entanglement either. But suddenly, unexpectedly, he just vanished. On Friday last, she expected him home for the evening meal, which was usually served about 8 o'clock. She waited in vain until 11, then just as she had decided to go to the t police station, the telephone bell rang. strange deep voice with a curiously husky intonation asked if she was Mme. Couturier. On receiving a reply in the affirmative, the unknown said: ‘Your husband has had an urgent call from a former school friend who is in great trouble. M. Couturier has taken the train to Paris, so as to help him. He was unable to come home first, but he begs you not to be ed. He will return in a few days.’ Since then—that's a week ago—she has had no news and decided to come to us.” “What have you done?” I queried. “Well, we found that the call had been made from the Perrache railway station, and, by description the telephone operator gave us, it was Couturier himself who phoned. He probably disguised his voicg by placing a hand- kerchief before the receiver.” “Why couldn’t he have spoken in a natural and sensible way to his wife?” “Well, probably he was afraid of having to explain—what he couldn’t explain. Now that call was just after 11, and there is no train to Paris until nearly 2 in the morning. Plenty of time for him to go home and explain to his wife, had he wished to do so. But ilhere is a train at 11:14 for Marseille and that is where he went. “By a lucky chance that train takes no passengers from Lyon unless they pay for the full distance from Paris. It is a Riviera express, and Couturier, who had only a ticket from Lyon, made a fuss, that's bow the guard happens to remember him. Iesides which, ke was the only French passenger ‘who got in there. BUT in Marseille, beyond the fact that he “~ met some one in the buffet at the station, ‘we learned nothing. He may have gone along the Rivera or toward Spain, or he may be still in the town.” “No easy matter, if he doesn’t travel, to find him in Marseille,” I said. “Precisely. But we have ascertained that he drew no money from his bank on Priday; 80 the urgent reason for his trip south came along after 4, that is, after the banks had " closed. Nor had he much money, for when paying the extra amount due on the train, he had to search his pockets for loose change and barely scraped enough together. Naturally the banks were warned and yesterday we received the news that a check signed by him had been cashed at the Marseille branch of the Credit Lyonnais. The manager first tele- phoned to Lyon, but accepted the check when Couturier showed him his driving license, which as you know bears a certified signature and photograph.” “Well, so far there is nothing strange about the case. Probably just a woman somewhere in the background.” “True—but now the plot thickens. Another check was cashed to bearer and the man who cashed it was a Chinaman and a noted dope peddler. Since then, neither the yellow man nows:Courtier has been seen. Nor has the Ppoor wife received any news. “Laughton believes that the man is a drug ne‘:d.'muutneummmmmmec Sale of poisonous drugs. Something occurred ‘which made his immediate presence in Mar- ‘seille imperative. The wife would have in- sisted on coming too, for she is very jeaious.” “And you believe that?” I asked incredu- Jously. “Why I can pick a dozen holes in that theory. “So can I. I didn't say I believed it. Never- theless there is a queer fact to support the thesis. A detective has arrived in Paris who ‘has been after a big gang of smugglers .for ATy > 3 3 R THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, SEPTEMBER 8, 1 929, “I found Levallois struggling with a gigantic African.” months, Laughton happened to show him the photograph of the missing man and he at once became wildly excited and pulled a chart from his pocket. “It was the Bertillon chart of the smugglers’ presumed leader, a man named Le Breton. There is little doubt that Couturier and Le Breton are one and the same.” I whistled in surprise. “Oh, that’s different. You say he was only recently married; per- haps his poor wife knows nothing of the dou- ble life he’s been leading.” Levallois nodded, “I'm off now to the identity section. Laughton is investigating the past of Couturier. M. Duprez wishes you to come to his office. Voltaire and Laughton are wait- ing for you. I shall be back soon.” When I entered the office of the investigat- ing magistrate I saw that as usual something had ruffied him. He was examining a sheaf of documents which a man I had not seen be- fore had obviously just brought. I guessed that he was the detective from Paris. M. DUPREZ rapidly scanned the papers, then he looked up with a frown. *“I don’t see why you come to us,” he said to the Paris man, a thick-set fellow, whose insignificant appearance would have caused him to pass un- observed in any crowd—a great asset for a de- tective. Lyon is not a town where smuggled opium or silk could be sold with any chance of success. Our citizens have no leisure for drugs, and as for silks, well—it’s like trying to sell wine to Bordeaux.” “I know that,” the Parisian replied with a peculiarly harsh voice. “But Lyon is a half- way house. This gang uses the rivers for transporting the dope from Marseille; and the Chinese silk is sent to Paris packed in boxes bearing the labels of famous local silk factories. In this way they distribute their contraband without risk, whereas silk coming directly from Marseille would look suspicious. “As for the raw opium, that is forwarded hid- den in jars of olive oil. Therefore you must have a clever receiver heme, who, if we can find him, will lead us to the active gang oper- ating at both ends.” M. Duprez tapped his teeth thoughtfully with a pen for a minute, then he turned to Voltaire and myself: “Have you any information likely to be of use in this matter?” Voltaire shook his head. “None whatever, monsieur. We had no idea that this town was used as a distributing center. I will in- form my inspectors of it. Perhaps our colleague from Paris can give us some details?” “Yes, I can,” the man rasped in his unpleas- ant voice. “We have every reason to believe that a former seaman, known as Le Breton, is at the head of the organization and, curiously enough, your chief inspector showed me a photograph today which I swear is that of Le Breton. It seems he is known here as M. Cou- turier, and has a flourishing business. That, of course, is just a blind “Purthermore, M. Laughton tells me that Le Breton, alias Couturier, had only recently been married, and is missing since last PFriday, but has been traced to Marseille; which entirely fits in with my theory. This Le Breton is a clever criminal. He has been arrested twice and served a sentence of five years in Fresnes prison. Here is his chart,” and he laid a rec- ord with photograph and fingerprints on the table. The magistrate made a note of the descrip- tion; then he turned to Laughton. “Have you obtained any information yet about Couturier, monsieur? If what this inspector from Paris says is true, then it appears to me that your organization has been guilty of gross neglect. It is inconceivable that so dan- gerous a criminal should be able to live quietly in Lyon, carrying on an extensive business in contraband right under your noses.” “Quite inconceivable, monsieur, as you say,” Laughton drawled lazily, the glitter in his eyes and the flush on his cheeks belying his indif- ferent manner. M. Duprez had a way with him that always grated on Laughton, and he reacted to it by becoming irritatingly placid. “Nevertheless, I beileve that even in Paris there have been men ®ho deceived headquar- ters and led double lives. . Eh, monsieur?” he queried, with a smile at the detective. The latter spread out his hands with & conciliatory gesture. “Certainly, certainly, we do not suggest that we are infallible.” Laughton turned again to the magistrata just as Levallois came bustling in. The little fellow at once addressed the Parisian, whom he had already met. “When did you say Le Breton served a sentence in Fresnes?"” he asked. “He was released two years ago. Why?"” LEVALLOXS look2d crestfallen. “Oh—two -years ago Couturier came to Lyon and opened a wholesale oil business; mcre than that I have been unable to discover. He has never had any trouble.” M. Duprez interrupted testily: “Get to work on this, gentlemen. Since Paris does us the honor to come here for help, we must show them that we have men capable as any in that great hotbed of crime. Report to me when you have traced this Cou- rurier.” Laughton immediately busied himself prob- - ing into the past of Couturier, and we did not see him until the next day. He was frankly skeptical that there was any connection be- tween the disappearance of the Lyonnaise oil merchant and the smugglers, nor would he be- lieve that any such smuggling center existed in Lyon, but Levallois, as usual, disagreed with him. “But yes,” he cried, “how clever such a scheme is. See, Laughton—as the man from Paris pointed out, silk from here is not likely to attract attention, nor jars of olive oil. But the gang’s headquarters will be difficult to find. We cannot open the countless bails sent by rail and river every day. Why not get in touch with Marseille? Get the end of the thread, not the middle.” As though in answer to the little detective's suggestion, an official communication from headquarters at the great seaport arrived, while we were still discussing the matter. The authorities were convinced that the river was being used as a highway for trans- porting smuggled merchandise from the East to Lyon, in order to be able to foward it from there without risk. Our co-operation was ur- gently requested. “Very well,” Laughton exclaimed, after read- ing it to us. “I cannot leave yet, for I am ex- pecting various reports about the missing man. Although I do not think he is Le Breton, I cannot afford to be obstinate and neglect what may be a valuable clew. You three must go to Marseille at once. Try to trace Couturier if - you can, but at the same time act as though it were an independent investigation. It can do no harm. “If they are one and the same, you can hest run him to earth by getting on the track of the smugglers. If not—well, we must try to clear up both mysteries. I shall join you as quickly as possible. It should be a simple mat- ter to find out how the stuff is smuggled into France from the big steamers. Failing that, watch the river. They probably use launches, and travel only by night.” We eagerly hailed the opportunity to escape from the mist and cold for a few days, for, although the distance to Marseille is mnot great, the great industrial city had an un- pleasant climate, owing to the two rivers which pass through it and the proximity of the mountains. The ancient Mediterranean sea- port, on the other hand, could always be relied upon for blue skies and warm sun- shine. Chief Inspector Durand welcomed us heari- ily. He was one of the few officers of the Marseille headquarters who placed results, no matter by whom obtained, before petty pro- fessional jealousy. “It'll be no easy job,” he said with a grin. “We have been at work for months, but we cannot discover how the stuff gets landed. French steamers from the East are not only carefully searched before they leave port, but we have spies on many of the ships, and they are again searched on arrival in Marseille Harbor, “Several times we were advised that bales of silk and opium were on board, but when we searched here we found nothing. Yet shortly afier we had proof that quantities of contra= band had been forwarded to Paris. They're a clewer gang. I wish you luck. Are you going ¢o work with us or independently?” “Independently, eh, Jules?” Levallois cried shrilly. “If these friends of ours have made no headway, we'd only be biased by following in their footsteps. Besides, we have to search for Couturier, also.” To this Voltaire agreed. “Let us have a list of the suspected steam- ers, Durand?” he said. “We'll keep in touch with- you, of course. Our part is merely to discover the distributing center in Lyon. Whatever we find out here we'll pass on to you.” “Good! Well, there is a Japanese beat due tomorrow, the Tokio. We've long known that some one aboard is a confederate of these smugglers. She will pass Toulon about an hour before dawn. 2re is your search war- rant.” FTER a lengthy discugsion we decided to split up. Voltaire elected to hire a launch in order to meet the steamer, while Levallois and I, dressed in rough seamen’s clothes, would follow some of the crew coming ashore and thus discover their favorite haunts. Our object was not so much to arrest any one should we find they carried contraband as to follow this on its journey to Paris, since we desired above all to locate the receivers who handled it at the various stages of its distri- bution. We thought it as well to prowl about the harborside taverns in advance; none of the foreign seamen would receive shore leave be- fore the following evening, but it would be useful to know where to find them. Further- more, if the missing man was a member of v IR 0 5 5 BN