The staff of the Royal Palace Hotel were just finishing dinner, and the
greatest animation prevailed in the vast white-tiled servants' hall. The
tone of the conversation varied at different tables, for the servants
jealously observed a strict order of precedence among themselves, but
the present topic was the same at all, the recent sensational robbery
from Mme. Van den Rosen and the Princess Sonia Danidoff. At one table,
smaller than the rest, a party of upper servants sat, under-managers or
heads of departments: M. Louis was here, the general manager, M. Muller
the superintendent of the second floor, M. Ludovic chief valet, M.
Maurice head footman, M. Naud chief cashier, and last but not least
Mlle. Jeanne the young lady cashier whose special duty it was to take
charge of all the moneys and valuables deposited in the custody of the
hotel by guests who wished to relieve themselves of the responsibility
of keeping these in their own rooms. This small and select company was
increased to-night by the addition of M. Henri Verbier, a man of about
forty years of age, who had left the branch hotel at Cairo belonging to
the same Company to join the staff at the Royal Palace Hotel in Paris.
"I am afraid, M. Verbier, you will form a very bad opinion of our
establishment," said M. Muller to him. "It is really a pity that you
should have left the Cairo branch and come here just when these
robberies have put the Royal Palace under a cloud."
Henri Verbier smiled.
"You need not be afraid of my attaching too much importance to that," he
said. "I've been in hotel life for fifteen years now, in one capacity
or another, and, as you may suppose, I've known similar cases before, so
they don't surprise me much. But one thing does surprise me, M. Muller,
and that is that no clue has yet been found. I suppose the Board have
done everything that can be done to trace the culprit? The reputation of
the hotel is at stake."
"I should think they have looked for him!" said M. Louis, with a
pathetic shrug of his shoulders. "Why, they even upbraided me for having
had the door opened for the thief! Luckily I had a good friend in
Muller, who admitted that he had been completely imposed upon and that
he had given the order for the fellow, whom he supposed to be the
second-floor waiter, to be allowed to go out. I knew nothing about it."
"And how was I to guess that the man was an impostor?" Muller protested.
"All the same," Henri Verbier retorted, "it is uncommonly annoying for
everybody when things like that happen."
"So long as one has not committed any breach of orders, and so can't be
made a scapegoat of, one mustn't grumble," M. Muller said. "Louis and I
did exactly what our duty required and no one can say anything to us.
The magistrate acknowledged that a week ago."
"He does not suspect anybody?" Henri Verbier asked.
"No: nobody," Muller answered.