The Case of the Dead Diplomat (11 page)

The café being a wide one, Cooper was able to pass through another door into the interior and place himself almost behind them with a plate-glass window between. He ordered a drink and kept a wary eye upon their movements. They were deep in conversation; presently they rose to greet a third man, who sat down beside them. Their heads went together; they must have been talking almost in whispers. Cooper beckoned to the waiter and paid his bill, but sat on where he was until his men had also paid for their drinks, when they went off in the direction of the Madeleine. Fortunately for Cooper the Boulevard was crowded with employees going home; he could follow his men without risk. They skirted the Madeleine and walked down the rue Tronchet in the direction of St. Lazare station. Apparently all three were bent upon some quest that they had in common. They climbed the steps to the booking office; went to the window marked first class, and Cooper pressed in behind them near enough to see that Polowski asked for three first-class return tickets to le Pecq. On this he himself took a second-class single for the same place, seated himself in the train, after seeing his quarry enter a first-class compartment, and became busy with his thoughts.

“Return tickets?” he mused. That meant an evening call upon someone in le Pecq. Where were they going to dine? Or were they keeping a dinner appointment in le Pecq? What an extraordinary coincidence that he should have to visit le Pecq twice in two days. Surely this could not be the luck that his colleague Richardson was always counting upon—that this second visit to le Pecq would prove to be connected with the first. That third man? Who was he? A man with a cauliflower ear and a nose a little out of the straight; a man with the powerful torso of a prize-fighter would not be a pleasant guest in any civilized dining-room. They must be going to pay a short evening call. Clearly the little party would be worth following.

Then he turned to the question of how this could be done in the dark. The train was a slow one, stopping at every station to drop passengers who spent their working days in Paris. Most of them would be put down long before le Pecq was reached. He would have to stay in his compartment until his little party had passed the barrier. Would he be able to pick them up again in the dark? Heavens! How this train loitered!

Croissy at last—the next station before le Pecq. At least a hundred people alighted; the train proceeded nearly empty. But in the light from the platform lamps Cooper had satisfied himself that none of the three men was among them. He moved to the sliding door to get a better view. The train slowed down—the brakes were applied—it pulled up, and was scarcely at rest before three first-class passengers leapt out and were at the barrier with their tickets. They had given no backward glance at the train. But they were out of sight and might have turned either way at the entrance to the station.

Cooper covered the intervening yards quicker than he ever remembered running; describing his gait afterwards, he said that he had taken to wing. Instinctively he avoided the light thrown upon him by the street-lamp and, guided more by sound than sight, he found himself on the track of his men. They were walking three abreast on the narrow road that led past Pinet's little villa. The noise made by their heels on the tarred road made it possible for him to follow them without being overheard.

Cooper checked himself when he judged them to be opposite the little white villa. Would they pass it and so start him off on an inquiry that had nothing to do with the British Embassy, or dared he hope that they would stop at Pinet's gate, ring the bell and summon the platinum blonde? The noise of their heavy boots had ceased. And then, faintly borne to him, came the sound of an electric bell. It was Pinet they had come to see. Cooper did not stop to reflect upon the strange caprices of fortune that had brought this new turn to their affairs just when they had reached the foot of the dead wall. He had to think and think quickly what his next move was to be; it would, of course, be priceless to listen in at the conversations, but they were three to one, and the man with the cauliflower ear and the crooked nose would soon make it clear to him that on Pinet's front door the words “no admittance” ought to be inscribed.

Still, it was a public road; he had as much right to it as they had—he could at least time his passing to the arrival of the platinum blonde at the gate. He went forward. It may be doubted whether any of the three men were aware of him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the glint of the distant street-lamp on that metallic hair. The lady seemed to be protesting; the gentlemen, or at any rate one of them, to be insisting; voices were raised; the boxer seemed to be advocating a short way with her unless the gate were opened; the others were trying to moderate his tones. Before he passed out of earshot Cooper caught the words, “I tell you, madame, that we
must
see him.”

Cooper was now far enough away to make it safe for him to stop, but he heard no more, for the man had overcome the lady's objections, and the gate was shut behind them.

The time of waiting seemed interminable. At last a shaft of light was projected from the front door; the party was coming out. Assuming that they would make for the station, he hung back in the darkness. The only words spoken were “
Au revoir
, madame; we shall see you again before long.” And then the three set out for the station. This time Cooper provided himself with an evening paper and took a first-class ticket to Paris. There being only one first-class coach, he entered it just behind the men, and passed down the corridor to the single seats at the end, where he buried himself behind his newspaper.

The trains make such a noise on the St. Germain line that conversation is impossible except during the brief stops, and even then it was difficult to catch the sense of what they were saying, though he was the only other person in the carriage. One thing was clear; they were not seeing eye to eye. The prizefighter was a man of action, but his plans did not seem to suit the others.

Arrived at Paris, the men took a taxi from the station and drove to a modest hotel just off the rue de Rivoli, followed by Cooper in another taxi, which he stopped at the corner and paid off. Nothing was more natural than for a foreigner visiting Paris to pass the glazed swing-door of the hotel and look in. Cooper saw the three men make their way to the desk and ask for their keys. He felt that he could now take it for granted that he had reached the end of the long trail. The men were staying at the Hôtel Philippe. There was nothing now to do but find Richardson and report. Cooper found him in his hotel bedroom, writing up his notes.

“You can lay down your pen, inspector, until you've heard what I have to tell you.”

Cooper narrated shortly all that had happened during his tour of observation. When he came to the description of the third man who had joined Polowski at the Café Veil, Richardson sat up stiff.

“A thick-set man with a crooked nose and a cauliflower ear, about thirty-five to forty? Was he smoking a pipe?”

“Yes, a rather short pipe. Why, do you know him?”

“From your description I should take him to be Dick Butler, the champion middle-weight, who must have just come out from serving his sentence for blackmail.”

“What else has he done?”

“I don't know that he's done anything. Blackmail is his trade and he sticks to it. My old friend Polowski would readily turn his hand to blackmail if he saw a chance of making money out of it. Of course I'll have to see Butler before I can swear to his identity, and that's not going to be easy, because he'd recognize me a hundred yards off.”

“There's a little shop next to the hotel—a bookshop. Couldn't you wait just inside and let me give you a signal? We could get along down there at nine o'clock when the shop opens, and then keep observation.”

“We will, but that doesn't bring us any nearer to our goal. The murdered man had no money, and therefore if Pinet was guilty he could not have made any money out of the murder. Why, then, should anyone try to blackmail Pinet? And why should it take three men to do it?”

“Perhaps Polowski was trying on his old wheeze of selling bogus jewellery.”

“But why pick out Pinet—a struggling journalist?”

“They might have been trying to get him to write an article for his paper to advertise them, promising to pay him as soon as they got a purchaser,” said Cooper.

“H'm! They might. We'll buy a copy of the paper and see, but from what I know of Polowski's methods, I fancy that he would always select some reckless, gambling fellow with money.”

“Yes,” said Cooper, “but remember that Pinet's paper deals with finance, and this may have become his new way of approach—to boost the gang in an article and then introduce them to the rich dupe. Supposing that you recognize this prize-fighter as Butler, what more can we do? Get him kicked out of France?”

“That must depend upon what Verneuil suggests. My idea is to get Verneuil to work with us now that Bigot has thrown us over.”

“Take him entirely into our confidence, you mean?”

“Yes, why not? He doesn't seem to be hand in glove with Bigot, and he'd be rather glad to wipe his eye. Anyhow, we can do nothing further to-night.”

At five minutes past nine next morning the manager of the bookshop that abutted on the Hôtel Philippe received a foreign client—a studious-looking young man in horn-rimmed glasses, who asked leave to look over the stock-in-trade before becoming a purchaser. At this early hour the visitor had the shop to himself. He seemed very hard to please and a little absent-minded, for after opening a book and reading a sentence or two, he would gaze out of the window at the passers-by and occasionally move into the doorway, still carrying the book in his hand. This did not alarm the proprietor, since the customer looked honest and had hung up his hat on a peg, from which he could not remove it without being seen. He was very polite, but appeared disinclined for conversation. Once the proprietor did inquire whether he had found anything to his liking, and this produced a sale. He was told to put the book on one side while others were being selected.

The arrival of a fresh customer seemed to disturb the spectacled young man, who retired further into the shop until his departure. It was just after this incident that an eccentric foreigner passed the shop whistling a lively air. The studious young man went swiftly to the doorway and gazed into the street. Not content with this, he snatched his hat from the peg, and murmuring that he must run after a friend who had passed but would return, he made for the rue de Rivoli, where three men from the Hôtel Philippe were just disappearing.

A few minutes later the gentleman returned to complete his purchases. Evidently he had overtaken his friend, for a second foreigner accompanied him. The bill was presented and paid, and the two departed with their parcel.

“You weren't sure at first?” asked Cooper.

“No, because I had only his back view to go by,” said Richardson, folding up his shell-rimmed glasses and stowing them in his pocket. “I had to overtake them and get a squint at your prize-fighter from the opposite side of the street. It was Butler all right; I could swear to him anywhere. Prison diet has helped to keep his weight down and cure him of the drink habit. He's looking very fit.”

Cooper was thoughtful. “Are you going to the Embassy first to report progress, or to that police station to see Verneuil?”

“We'll dig out Verneuil first. Now that we know that our men are out, Verneuil can question the booking-clerk about them and have a look at their registration forms, but first we'd better have a heart-to-heart talk with him.”

It was a curious sensation to return to a police station from which you had been practically dismissed less than twenty-four hours previously. During the walk to the ninth
arrondissement
, Richardson was debating what he would say to Bigot if he encountered him. He could not pretend that he had come to ask for information so soon; he must feign to have important information to give. As a first step he asked to see Commissaire Verneuil, and by a miracle that official was in the police station. He shook hands with the two visitors, almost with a wink suggesting a secret understanding between them.

“Can I have a word with you, M. Verneuil?” asked Richardson. “We have brought you some interesting information.”

Verneuil led the way to the room where they had worked on their first day. They were alone there.

“M. Bigot is out, we understand.”

The ex-petty officer screwed up his face in a fashion that would have provoked applause in any music-hall. He laid his forefinger against his nose as if commending discretion.

“Yes, he is out. He is consorting with deputies of the Chamber; even now he may be found in the lobby of the senate, trying to get audience with a Minister. He is becoming a great man in these days. Soon we shall see his name and his portrait in a newspaper.”

“Then it is quite in order for us to deal with you?”

“And why not? You've dealt with me before. Why not now?”

“It is that we have recognized two, if not three, international criminals who are staying at the Hôtel Philippe.”

“Oh, as to that you will find international criminals all over Paris. We French are a hospitable nation.”

“Yes, perhaps too hospitable for your interests sometimes, but to resume—last night these men were followed to the house of M. Pinet which we visited with you yesterday afternoon.”

“Ha, ha!” exclaimed Verneuil. “This is something new.” He fumbled in his pocket for a notebook. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

Thereupon Cooper gave him a detailed account of what the reader already knows, and Verneuil began to take a lively interest.

“You have not given me the names of these men at the Hôtel Philippe.”

“No, because that would only confuse you. Such men invariably give false names, and if a passport is likely to be required they carry forged ones, but they must have registered at their hotel.”