THE DEVIL’S KITCHENDesgrez found the latch, lifted it cautiously, opened the door and stepped into the kitchens of the deserted mansion. These neglected, decaying apartments showed the police agent nothing of interest; they were half basement; the glass in the windows had long since been broken or removed — tangles of last year’s rotting weeds forced themselves through the window spaces, the damp made patches of black mould on the walls; it was obviously a long time since the place had been used, but in the large fireplace were signs of a recent fire — a charred log, ashes, and a serviceable set of kitchen utensils, a three-legged cauldron, a poker, a pair of tongs, and one or two nondescript metal vessels.
“Well, someone comes to cook here — in a place like this,” thought Desgrez. “I sup
