WHAT HAPPENED TO MAURICE DUVAL
I went down to the factory early next morning. Jacques was just sorting out the letters. I saw one
with Carvalet's name on it. I opened it: it contained a contract for a further six months at the new
prices.
"Jacques," I said, "please bring me our old contract with Carvalet and all the accounts of the
factory--costs and sales. I want to go through them with you."
It took us about an hour and a half. Then he went to the kitchen to make some coffee. It was now
clear to me that the factory had been losing money under the old contract. Under the new one it was
just a costly plaything.
I went into the kitchen and drank my coffee. Then someone knocked on the door and Jacques went back
to the office.
I looked round me and saw another door in the kitchen leading to the rest of the house. I opened it.
There were two rooms and a staircase leading to other rooms above. The first room was quite empty.
In the second there were some large pieces of furniture, chairs and boxes all heaped up against the
wall. There was a box of books. Inside one of them "Maurice Duval" was written.
I heard footsteps. Jacques stood in the doorway watching me: he seemed very surprised and uncomfort-
able as if I had come upon some family secret.
I said, "Do you think we ought to get someone to live in this house instead of letting it stand
empty?"
He did not answer, but looked very uncomfortable. The he said, "No one would wish to live here now.
There had been fighing in the grounds of the factory. Monsieur Duval, the master of the glass
factory was woken in the middle of the night. He was taken downstairs and shot by his own country-
men; his body was thrown into the well and broken glass was thrown down on top of him. So no one
would wish to live here now."
"No," I said. "No, of course."
Then I said, "I'll sign this new contract and post it myself, and I'll take our contract away."
Jean de Gue's handwriting was not difficult. No one could have told the difference between my
writing of his name and his.