'You have seen the American who has bought the necklace?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Very well. Go outside quietly, and station yourself there. He is
likely to emerge presently with the jewels in his possession. You are
not to lose sight of either the man or the casket. I shall follow him
and be close behind him as he emerges, and you are to shadow us. If he
parts with the case you must be ready at a sign from me to follow
either the man or the jewels. Do you understand?' 'Yes, sir,' he
answered, and left the room.
It is ever the unforeseen that baffles us; it is easy to be wise after
the event. I should have sent two men, and I have often thought since
how admirable is the regulation of the Italian Government which sends
out its policemen in pairs. Or I should have given my man power to
call for help, but even as it was he did only half as well as I had a
right to expect of him, and the blunder he committed by a moment's
dull-witted hesitation--ah, well! there is no use of scolding. After
all the result might have been the same.
Just as my man disappeared between the two folding doors the official
from the Ministry of the Interior entered. I intercepted him about
half-way on his journey from the door to the auctioneer.
'Possibly the cheque appears to be genuine,' I whispered to him.
'But certainly,' he replied pompously. He was an individual greatly
impressed with his own importance; a kind of character with which it
is always difficult to deal. Afterwards the Government asserted that
this official had warned me, and the utterances of an empty-headed ass
dressed in a little brief authority, as the English poet says, were
looked upon as the epitome of wisdom.
'I advise you strongly not to hand over the necklace as has been
requested,' I went on.
'Why?' he asked.
'Because I am convinced the bidder is a criminal.'
'If you have proof of that, arrest him.'
'I have no proof at the present moment, but I request you to delay the
delivery of the goods.'
'That is absurd,' he cried impatiently. 'The necklace is his, not
ours. The money has already been transferred to the account of the
Government; we cannot retain the five million francs, and refuse to
hand over to him what he has bought with them,' and so the man left me
standing there, nonplussed and anxious. The eyes of everyone in the
room had been turned on us during our brief conversation, and now the
official proceeded ostentatiously up the room with a grand air of
importance; then, with a bow and a flourish of the hand, he said,
dramatically,--
'The jewels belong to Monsieur.'
The two Americans rose simultaneously, the taller holding out his hand
while the auctioneer passed to him the case he had apparently paid so
highly for. The American nonchalantly opened the box and for the first
time the electric radiance of the jewels burst upon that audience,
each member of which craned his neck to behold it. It seemed to me a
most reckless thing to do. He examined the jewels minutely for a few
moments, then snapped the lid shut again, and calmly put the box in
his outside pocket, and I could not help noticing that the light
overcoat he wore possessed pockets made extraordinarily large, as if
on purpose for this very case. And now this amazing man walked
serenely down the room past miscreants who joyfully would have cut his
throat for even the smallest diamond in that conglomeration; yet he
did not take the trouble to put his hand on the pocket which contained
the case, or in any way attempt to protect it. The assemblage seemed
stricken dumb by his audacity. His friend followed closely at his
heels, and the tall man disappeared through the folding doors. Not so
the other. He turned quickly, and whipped two revolvers out of his
pockets, which he presented at the astonished crowd. There had been a
movement on the part of every one to leave the room, but the sight of
these deadly weapons confronting them made each one shrink into his
place again.
The man with his back to the door spoke in a loud and domineering
voice, asking the auctioneer to translate what he had to say into
French and German; he spoke in English.
'These here shiners are valuable; they belong to my friend who has
just gone out. Casting no reflections on the generality of people in
this room, there are, nevertheless, half a dozen "crooks" among us
whom my friend wishes to avoid. Now, no honest man here will object to
giving the buyer of that there trinket five clear minutes in which to
get away. It's only the "crooks" that can kick. I ask these five
minutes as a favour, but if they are not granted I am going to take
them as a right. Any man who moves will get shot.'
'I am an honest man,' I cried, 'and I object. I am chief detective of
the French Government. Stand aside; the police will protect your
friend.'
'Hold on, my son,' warned the American, turning one weapon directly
upon me, while the other held a sort of roving commission, pointing
all over the room. 'My friend is from New York and he distrusts the
police as much as he does the grafters. You may be twenty detectives,
but if you move before that clock strikes three, I'll bring you down,
and don't you forget it.'
It is one thing to face death in a fierce struggle, but quite another
to advance coldly upon it toward the muzzle of a pistol held so
steadily that there could be no chance of escape. The gleam of
determination in the man's eyes convinced me he meant what he said. I
did not consider then, nor have I considered since, that the next five
minutes, precious as they were, would be worth paying my life for.
Apparently everyone else was of my opinion, for none moved hand or
foot until the clock slowly struck three.
'Thank you, gentlemen,' said the American, as he vanished between the
spring-doors. When I say vanished, I mean that word and no other,
because my men outside saw nothing of this individual then or later.
He vanished as if he had never existed, and it was some hours before
we found how this had been accomplished.
I rushed out almost on his heels, as one might say, and hurriedly
questioned my waiting men. They had all seen the tall American come
out with the greatest leisure and stroll towards the west. As he was
not the man any of them were looking for they paid no further
attention to him, as, indeed, is the custom with our Parisian force.
They have eyes for nothing but what they are sent to look for, and
this trait has its drawbacks for their superiors.
I ran up the boulevard, my whole thought intent on the diamonds and
their owner. I knew my subordinate in command of the men inside the
hall would look after the scoundrel with the pistols. A short distance
up I found the stupid fellow I had sent out, standing in a dazed
manner at the corner of the Rue Michodière, gazing alternately down
that short street and towards the Place de l'Opéra. The very fact that
he was there furnished proof that he had failed.
'Where is the American?' I demanded.
'He went down this street, sir.'
'Then why are you standing here like a fool?'
'I followed him this far, when a man came up the Rue Michodière, and
without a word the American handed him the jewel-box, turning
instantly down the street up which the other had come. The other
jumped into a cab, and drove towards the Place de l'Opéra.'
'And what did you do? Stood here like a post, I suppose?'
'I didn't know what to do, sir. It all happened in a moment.'
'Why didn't you follow the cab?'
'I didn't know which to follow, sir, and the cab was gone instantly
while I watched the American.'
'What was its number?'
'I don't know, sir.'
'You clod! Why didn't you call one of our men, whoever was nearest,
and leave him to shadow the American while you followed the cab?'
'I did shout to the nearest man, sir, but he said you told him to stay
there and watch the English lord, and even before he had spoken both
American and cabman were out of sight.'
'Was the man to whom he gave the box an American also?'
'No, sir, he was French.'
'How do you know?'
'By his appearance and the words he spoke.'
'I thought you said he didn't speak.'
'He did not speak to the American, sir, but he said to the cabman,
"Drive to the Madeleine as quickly as you can."'
'Describe the man.'
'He was a head shorter than the American, wore a black beard and
moustache rather neatly trimmed, and seemed to be a superior sort of
artisan.'
'You did not take the number of the cab. Should you know the cabman if
you saw him again?'
'Yes, sir, I think so.'
Taking this fellow with me I returned to the now nearly empty auction
room and there gathered all my men about me. Each in his notebook
took down particulars of the cabman and his passenger from the lips of
my incompetent spy; next I dictated a full description of the two
Americans, then scattered my men to the various railway stations of
the lines leading out of Paris, with orders to make inquiries of the
police on duty there, and to arrest one or more of the four persons
described should they be so fortunate as to find any of them.
I now learned how the rogue with the pistols vanished so completely as
he did. My subordinate in the auction room had speedily solved the
mystery. To the left of the main entrance of the auction room was a
door that gave private access to the rear of the premises. As the
attendant in charge confessed when questioned, he had been bribed by
the American earlier in the day to leave this side door open and to
allow the man to escape by the goods entrance. Thus the ruffian did
not appear on the boulevard at all, and so had not been observed by
any of my men.
Taking my futile spy with me I returned to my own office, and sent an
order throughout the city that every cabman who had been in the
Boulevard des Italiens between half-past two and half-past three that
afternoon, should report immediately to me. The examination of these
men proved a very tedious business indeed, but whatever other
countries may say of us, we French are patient, and if the haystack is
searched long enough, the needle will be found. I did not discover the
needle I was looking for, but I came upon one quite as important, if
not more so.
It was nearly ten o'clock at night when a cabman answered my
oft-repeated questions in the affirmative.
'Did you take up a passenger a few minutes past three o'clock on the
Boulevard des Italiens, near the Crédit-Lyonnais? Had he a short black
beard? Did he carry a small box in his hand and order you to drive to
the Madeleine?'
The cabman seemed puzzled.
'He wore a short black beard when he got out of the cab,' he replied.
'What do you mean by that?'
'I drive a closed cab, sir. When he got in he was a smooth-faced
gentleman; when he got out he wore a short black beard.'
'Was he a Frenchman?'
'No, sir; he was a foreigner, either English or American.'
'Was he carrying a box?'
'No, sir; he held in his hand a small leather bag.'
'Where did he tell you to drive?'
'He told me to follow the cab in front, which had just driven off very
rapidly towards the Madeleine. In fact, I heard the man, such as you
describe, order the other cabman to drive to the Madeleine. I had come
alongside the curb when this man held up his hand for a cab, but the
open cab cut in ahead of me. Just then my passenger stepped up and
said in French, but with a foreign accent: "Follow that cab wherever
it goes."'