Chapter 92: Uncle Is Here!

Joseph read the case handled by Vezinier from beginning to end, and discussed it with Fouche and others for a long time, but found that there was really no place to start.

If you investigate some cases carefully, you may be able to dig out some clues, but it will definitely take a long time.

When everyone was at a loss what to do, Eman came over and reminded in a low voice: "Your Highness, if you don't set off, you will not be able to catch up with the classes at the police academy."

Joseph rubbed his temples. It seemed that he couldn't find a handle on Vezinier for a while, so he might as well go to the command department first.

He got up and walked outside the house. After thinking about it, he turned around and called Fouche to prepare for more research on the way.

Fouche hurriedly picked up a large pile of information about Vezinier on the table and followed him quickly. However, before taking a few steps, the letters in the information suddenly fell out with a crash.

Fouche put down the document awkwardly and called on everyone around him to come over and help pick up the letter.

Joseph looked at the hundreds of letters on the ground and waved: "Let's go, there's no need to pick it up, there's no useful evidence anyway..."

He breathed a sigh of relief and shook his head irritably: "It would be nice if there were a few letters containing evidence of his guilt."

At this point, he stopped suddenly, feeling as if he had caught some inspiration.

Since I have no incriminating evidence in my hand, can I try to get Vezinier to take the initiative to write some evidence?

He quickly ran through the information he had just read in his mind, suddenly turned around, pulled out a few documents from the documents next to Fouche, and spread them out on the table.

One of them was Vareye's information, and then he looked at the information about the father of Runache, the murderer of the recent murder.

Although the two have nothing to do with each other, they have one thing in common - they are both Caen people.

Joseph lowered his head and thought, maybe he could use this little grip to push forward like this...and then induce like this...

Then, no matter how careful Vezinier is, he will inevitably fall into a pit!

He grabbed the information of Vezinier's maid and read it again, and asked Fouche excitedly: "Is there anyone in the police intelligence department who is good at imitating other people's handwriting?"

Fouche nodded: "There are several of them, Your Highness."

"Okay, call them over quickly." Joseph pointed to the letter on the ground again, "Look for Vareye's letter."

"Ah? Vareyere?" Fouche reacted, remembering that he was a close friend of Vezinier, and hurriedly knelt down and started searching.

After a moment, he held up a letter: "Your Highness, here it is!"

Several professionals who could imitate handwriting came to the office one after another. Under Joseph's command, they imitated the handwriting of Vezinier and Vareyere and wrote several paragraphs with reference to their letters.

Joseph selected the two people who imitated the most, and then asked people to find all Vareye's letters and hand them over to professional intelligence personnel to analyze whether there were any secret codes or anything like that.

After the preparations were completed, Joseph said to Fouche: "Select a few capable men and go to Caen immediately."

"Caen?"

Joseph nodded: "Go and investigate the situation of Vareye in detail, and then arrange it like this..."

After he finished explaining, Fouche obviously thought of something from this. His eyes suddenly lit up and he nodded repeatedly: "Yes, I will do it now!"

Joseph then made detailed plans with Fouche and confirmed that all the details had been taken into consideration. Then he left the police intelligence office with ease and headed towards the police academy.

Just judging by the time, the tactical command class must have ended long ago.

…

A few days later.

On the Left Bank of Paris, in a small villa on Rue Mouforta.

Two aristocratic couples in their forties sat on chairs with sad faces, each lowering his head and thinking about his own thoughts, and sighed from time to time.

On the table in front of them lay stew, bread and vegetable corn soup, but the food had already cooled down and not a bite had been touched at all.

A knock on the door woke them both. The maid hurriedly opened the door a crack and said, "Who are you looking for?"

"Is this the home of Viscount Monterey?"

"I am here."

The man in the room stood up tiredly, walked towards him, and frowned at the strange man in front of him: "Excuse me, who are you?"

"Sylvain, it's me." The visitor enthusiastically hugged Viscount Monterey's shoulders and patted him. Seeing that the latter was still dazed, he pointed to himself with a smile and said, "Langer, have you forgotten? Your expression younger brother."

"Cousin?" Viscount Monterey was confused.

Mr. Lange seemed a little unhappy. He put the gift he was carrying into Monterey's hands, took a step back and said, "My mother is your Aunt Angelique. Do you remember it?"

Monterey suddenly understood and nodded repeatedly: "Is Aunt Angelique okay? Oh, dear cousin, how did you find me here?"

The so-called Lange is naturally not his cousin, but an agent of the Police Intelligence Department.

The Police Intelligence Office had previously visited Caen, Monterey's hometown, and made full preparations, specifically choosing a distant relative of his as the entry point.

Lange took out a week-old "Caen News" from his pocket and opened it for Monterey to read: "I saw the news about Runacher's nephew. Oh, it's... such a pity."

What was published in the newspaper was the news about the "Runacher Murder Case" that Vezinier had recently taken over.

Mrs. Monterey also came over, covering her face with red eyes and said: "God, even Caen knows about this..."

Langre said hurriedly: "My mother also saw the news and immediately said that I must help you. So I rushed here.

"Oh, by the way, how is the case going now? Has the verdict been announced?"

Viscount Montrey shook his head: "Not yet. But the presiding judge doesn't want to see me. In my opinion... there may be no hope."

Langer smiled, patted him and said: "I came here for this matter."

"You? Do you have a way?"

Langer nodded: "The master I serve now has some friendship with the judge. I will go to help you arrange it.

"Of course, this may require a sum of money, a lot of money."

The Monterey couple was so excited that they almost knelt down to him, and said repeatedly: "We will find a way to solve the money problem. As long as it is not sentenced to death by hanging, everything else is fine, please!"

Langer pulled them to sit on the chair and asked: "Please tell me the case in more detail."

After a long time, Viscount Montrey finally told the case again in a nagging manner. Langer asked some details and immediately stood up and said:

"Okay, I'll go to the High Court now. Wait for my good news. "

Forty minutes later, Langer's carriage stopped outside the side door of the Paris High Court.

He glanced at the huge crowd of protesters in front of him, shook his head helplessly, and squeezed in through the crowd.

Soon after, in the largest office on the third floor of the High Court, he finally saw the target of this action - Chief Justice Vezynière.

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