House of All Nations (65 page)

Jules lifted the receiver. ‘Alphendéry, you're right. (Hullo, get me Maître Olympe!) He's cockroach-poor. (Pierre? Say, which is a good detective agency. No, not divorce. There's a chap bothering me I want to get after. You'll find out? What? Wait till I get that down—Green Ray—silly sort of name. Sounds imbecile, doesn't it? All right. Send one of their men round, will you? Wait—I don't want them to start blackmailing me, too. You come round right away, will you, Pierre? I'll give you the dope.) That's a good idea, Michel.'

Michel laughed with innocent vanity, ‘You didn't ask what they charged.'

‘It won't cost what it would cost to buy him off.'

‘I don't trust Olympe's judgment. He'll let out who you are.'

‘I say, you don't know Olympe. You're against him because he's a divorce lawyer for the high-steppers … By the way—you never went to Lemaître about your own divorce?'

‘I took a taxi to the door: then I thought, why force Estelle to divorce me? I have no false pride. I have no other girl I want to marry.'

‘You ought to get one, Alphendéry, you're lonely. That's why you run to the Reds. It would organize your life for you.' They began to talk of business again. Not once in a blue moon did Jules mention the private affairs of his associates.

‘A terrible crash of the pound sterling: you'll have to renege on those Carrière contracts. His next draft is due in a week.'

‘I won't go back on him yet,' said Jules. ‘The pound will go up again. It's just a flurry. Why with the sterling bloc they can't let it go off. That's how I figure.'

‘Do you think they'll jail Oustric?' asked Alphendéry.

‘No. He got everyone into his net. They'll jail nobody but some little twopenny clerk. They'll throw a big hunk of Senate-Committee shorthand notes at the raging lion and then they'll fold up the books and sneak off in silence. Gives too much argument to the radical press. I bet you one thousand francs, Michel, Oustric will not stay a day in jail. He's too cocky. He must have the whole cabinet in his pocket.'

‘Do you remember the first day I told you about him. I marked him down long before anyone else as a coming man,' murmured Alphendéry.

‘He's done now: they use them up fast in France,' said Jules regretfully.

‘The government is a gang you have to watch,' William interjected: ‘they are gangsters. They play along with you for a while and then suddenly they smack you in the head and make a colander out of you, with Senate inquiries, to suit their own game. I don't believe in getting in with the government gang, the way it's the fashion in France. That's why I'm against your having anything to do with Carrière, Jules. They're all so rotten that they infect everyone they touch. They've got all the dope and you've only got a bit of it. How can you win against them? Oustric was a bright baby and now they've done with him. They won't let him go to jail but they've spiked his game, now that he's filled their pockets with gold … If I were you, I'd ditch Carrière and quicker than that.'

‘Oh, shut up, William.'

‘Did you sign anything with Carrière?' insisted William.

‘No, I told you.'

‘And if the pound goes off you're not bound to pay him any losses?'

‘No, I told you,' yelled Jules. He continued in a normal but irritated tone, ‘Do stop harping on Carrière, William.'

Alphendéry was studying Jules minutely, and he put in, ‘It's just as well you didn't give Carrière a written guarantee on his sterling contracts, Jules, the way things look. I don't see how the pound can stay on gold. I'm certain there's nothing more in the vaults of the Bank of England but a few sheets of blotting paper and a
mont-de- piété
ticket.'

‘Who knows that?'

‘Why, some of us can read balance sheets and make calculations.'

Jules, without replying, turned down the sheet with the market quotations and began to discuss their market policy for the day. Alphendéry let it pass, therefore, but said to William later, ‘I have a most uneasy feeling about this Carrière thing. He swears he signed nothing and yet you can never trust Jules. He certainly acts as if he signed a contract with Carrière.'

‘Well, I've stayed back at the bank a few nights and I've looked everywhere.' William smiled. ‘I've got skeleton keys to every desk in the place; you know. And I don't see any agreement with Carrière, so I think it's all right. Besides he wouldn't be so wild.'

‘Did you hear the rumor about Carrière—that a boy was killed at one of his parties?'

‘Oh, if they don't kill themselves with drink and boys, they smash their neck at bobsleigh or in speedboats. That's the way we make money.' His gray, even tones ceased and Alphendéry only heard the jingling of the money he was lifting and silting back into his pocket. He laughed, ‘We don't even have to send them wreaths like the gangsters in Chicago.'

In a few days the detective agency, The Green Ray, turned in its report on Henri Parouart. A fragment follows—

AFFAIR OF HENRI PAROUART

July, 1931*

* The date, of course, is made to fit in with the calendar of events in the tale. No real events are referred to.

The watch was taken up at eight o'clock in the morning in the Passage de l'Opéra, where Mr. Parouart has a small room, as stated above.

At 8h.45, Mr. P. comes out bareheaded, goes towards the Galérie Feydeau, then brusquely makes a half-turn and by the Rue Vivienne gains the Great Boulevards, in the direction of the Rue Montmartre, stands a few seconds in front of the Maison du Café, looks into the interior, seems to make a gesture, goes, after this, to the Grand Comptoir, drinks, and goes to get his traditional cigar, not without stopping frequently at the windows he passes. He comes back, thereafter, by the boulevard and reaches his domicile by the Passage de l'Opéra.

It is 9h.14.

At 10h. he comes out again, crosses the street, goes to the Banque Czorvocky, mixes with the groups there, exchanges a few words with several persons, and once more goes home.

At 12h. we see him direct himself by the Rue Vivienne towards the Stock Exchange, which he enters at 12h.05, always by the same door, whence he comes to his habitual place, near the
corbeille
of the
agents-de-change
. The inspector stationed in the interior sees him talk with the same personage of middle height, dressed in gray, that we have already mentioned, and he quits the Stock Exchange at 14h.17, after having come out of it, for a short moment for his needs. He comes back to the Rue Vivienne, where he shakes for a long time the hand of a person of Semitic aspect, dressed in a beige suit, whom he met leaving the Bourse. Having reached the Rue St. Marc, he starts to run and penetrates down the Galérie Feydeau at a rapid pace. He passes the Galérie des Variétés, arrives on the Great Boulevards, goes to a newspaper kiosk situated in the neighborhood, where he buys the
Intransigeant
which he puts in his pocket without unfolding it. He looks around him, saunters a few steps as if he was waiting for someone, then enters the Rue Le Peletier, re-enters the Banque Czorvocky and comes out almost immediately and goes up to his room. It is 14h.45.

At 15h.01 he comes out again with his hat on his head and goes towards the Bourse, of which he mounts the steps, rapidly disappearing from us. After having looked for him, some instants at his usual place, where he does not appear, we go back to the Rue Le Peletier to watch there.

At 16h.40 he reappears by the Rue Rossini, accompanied by an individual tall, brown-complexioned, and dressed in blue, apparently about forty years old. Mr. P. appears very worried and goes up to his room with the
quidam
described.

At 17h.50 the latter comes out alone, by the Rue Le Peletier and disappears along the Great Boulevards.

At 19h.30 Mr. P. has not reappeared. The watch is maintained until 8h. without anyone having seen him.

July 25, 1931

The watch is taken up at 8h. a.m. At 8h.30 Mr. P. comes out by Rue Le Peletier, goes at a pace not usual with him at such an hour, towards Rue St. Marc, rapidly crosses the Place de la Bourse and goes to the Café du Vaudeville, stays there ten minutes, comes back as rapidly as before towards the Great Boulevards, and enters this time the Maison du Café where he drinks coffee. He appears disquieted, comes out of the Maison du Café, and goes home at the same rapid rate. It is 9h.

At 9h.10 we see enter very rapidly the person dressed in blue and holding an umbrella, the one we mentioned yesterday. This person goes upstairs, without any doubt to Mr. P.'s room and we are confirmed in this surmise by seeing him come down about ten minutes later, after making a sign of adieu to a person that we do not yet see and who stays behind him in the staircase. This person is none other than Mr. P., who, moreover, by the Boulevard des Italiens goes to the newspaper kiosk which is on the corner, whence he goes back home.

We then take up a position near the florist's shop at the entry to the Passage. It is 9h.30. At 9h.40 we perceive that a person is approaching us with muffled footsteps, from behind, and is spying upon us: a rapid glance behind permits us to recognize the personage in blue, of which there is mention above: after having stared us over from head to foot, he goes to Mr. P.'s place. At 11h.50 he comes out in company with the latter and we can hear the following words, ‘… it's a filthy thing to do …' Mr. P. and this person say good-by to each other at the subway station Opéra. Mr. P. comes back alone
and immediately goes to the Bourse, which he enters at 12h.05.

We have observed, during this period of surveillance, several persons pass and repass on several occasions each, looking us over with insistence, notably a man carrying a net bag containing some merchandise which we were not able to make out. This person came out of number 6 Rue Taitbout. Trailing him, we find ourselves in front of 9 Boulevard Montmartre.

At 12h.40, Mr. P. is still at the Bourse.

At 15h.30 we take up our stand at the angle of the Rue Le Peletier whence we watch the door by which Mr. P. is obliged to enter his house and we are warned by one of our ‘indicators' that Mr. P., whom we have lost in the crowd at the Bourse, has just passed the Rue Vivienne, whence he is going rapidly towards the Great Boulevards. We immediately start on his trail, but it is in vain that, at the crossing of the Great Boulevards, we attempt to find Mr. P. We come back to Rue Le Peletier, but wait vainly, until 8h.30 the return of Mr. P. whose window is not even lighted up. We leave our watch, since we have no instructions to maintain it.

July 28, 1931

Mr. P. comes out at 9h.15. He has his hat and seems more and more wary. He goes by the Boulevard des Italiens to the Maison du Café where we see him talk and laugh with a lady in black who is drinking beside him. He comes out at 9h.30 and by the Rue Louis-Le-Grand goes to his barber in this street where he is shaved.

At 10h. he goes to the Crédit Sennonais to look at the stock-exchange sheets, and then goes home. Some minutes afterwards we see the brown-complexioned person in blue, already mentioned, go up to his room. At 11h. this person comes down alone, while our ‘indicator' perceives the landlady of Mr. P., Mme. Calcaldo, at the window of Mr. P.'s room, looking attentively up and down the street, then turn round, at which moment, one sees the head of Mr. P. scarcely visible behind her, and disappearing rapidly.

At 12h.30 Mr. P. comes out at a rapid pace, walks several meters, stops brusquely, coming towards us with a hostile air. He is pale and seems very angry. He continues his way, then, almost running up to the crossing Richelieu-Drouot and ourselves going along at a smart pace to keep him in view. There, he stops and turns round again. We hide behind a kiosk, but being alone in the watch, we lose sight of Mr. P. during the few seconds in which we hid behind the kiosk. We take our watch up again to the Rue Le Peletier and at 5h.30 of this afternoon, we see Mr. P. appear, his hat in his hand. He seems exhausted, and we see that his feet are covered with dust, like someone who has walked a long way. He goes straight home. At 8h. of the evening he has not come out again.

The results of inquiries made by us in ‘special circles' show Mr. P. as being an accountant at the Banque Czorvocky, Rue Le Peletier, where he is perfectly intimate with one of the directors, Dr. Marcuzo, Bulgarian Israelite, living Rue du Docteur-Blanche, at La Muette.

The Banque Czorvocky is reputed to discount Russian drafts. An inquiry is being made on this subject. We are probably not wrong in supposing that Mr. P., who seems absolutely determined to break the trail, went to a correspondent where he receives orders and it is possible that this correspondent is Dr. Marcuzo. It is for his account, apparently, that Mr. P. gives Bourse orders to the mysterious personages that he meets almost everywhere. It would be wise then, in our opinion, to reinforce the watchers, particularly on Saturday afternoon and to take the chance of a surveillance after 8h.30 in the evening.

Note
. We recommend that the watch be doubled and kept up after 8h.30 p.m.

Green Ray

Jules and William and Alphendéry howled with laughter. Even the clients down in the stock-exchange room began to look upwards and titter.

‘At any rate, he gave Parouart a terrible scare,' Jules remarked, ‘I suppose it was worth it. Olympe tells me that if I pay them a higher fee they will tell me the name of the person in blue.'

‘Olympe is very useful,' William said with calm. ‘Get him to pick out anyone for you, lawyer, indicator, agent, and then take someone else, for you can be sure Olympe will have picked for himself the stupidest in the whole city. It's instinct. It's uncanny. To have such a sure touch!'

Jules was speaking lazily over the telephone, ‘Pierre, what on earth's the idea of sending me this? My messenger boy downstairs knows ten times as much as this about Parouart. No, of course, don't continue the watch and don't pay a higher fee. Good God! No, don't get another detective agency. Let it slide. He hasn't been near us since your beautiful agency advertised all over Paris that he was being watched. He's been scared out of his wits: he does nothing but run to the Bourse and run home … We'll never get anything on him now … Oh—' He put down the telephone. ‘If it wasn't that Claire-Josèphe adores Pierre. I knew him when I was flying. What can you do?'