CHAPTER XVII. A GAY NIGHT IN PARIS
Mr. James B. Coulson was almost as much at home at the Grand Hotel,Paris, as he had been at the Savoy in London. His headquarters were atthe American Bar, where he approved of the cocktails, patronized thehighballs, and continually met fellow-countrymen with whom he gossipedand visited various places of amusement. His business during the daytimehe kept to himself, but he certainly was possessed of a bagful ofdocuments and drawings relating to sundry patents connected with themanufacture of woollen goods, the praises of which he was always readyto sing in a most enthusiastic fashion.
Mr. Coulson was not a man whose acquaintance it was difficult to make.From five to seven every afternoon, scorning the attractions of theband outside and the generally festive air which pervaded the greattea rooms, he sat at the corner of the bar upon an article of furniturewhich resembled more than anything else an office stool, dividing hisattention between desultory conversation with any other gentleman whomight be indulging in a drink, and watching the billiards in which someof his compatriots were usually competing. It was not, so far as onemight judge, a strenuous life which Mr. Coulson was leading. He had beenknown once or twice to yawn, and he had somewhat the appearance of a manengaged in an earnest but at times not altogether successful attempt tokill time. Perhaps for that reason he made acquaintances with a littlemore than his customary freedom. There was a young Englishman, forinstance, whose name, it appeared, was Gaynsforth, with whom, after adrink or two at the bar, he speedily became on almost intimate terms.
Mr. Gaynsforth was a young man, apparently of good breeding and somemeans. He was well dressed, of cheerful disposition, knew somethingabout the woollen trade, and appeared to take a distinct liking to hisnew friend. The two men, after having talked business together for sometime, arranged to dine together and have what they called a gay evening.They retired to their various apartments to change, Mr. Gaynsforthperfectly well satisfied with his progress, Mr. James B. Coulson with abroad grin upon his face.
After a very excellent dinner, for which Mr. Gaynsforth insisted uponpaying, they went to the Folies Bergeres, where the Englishman developeda thirst which, considering the coolness of the evening, was nothingshort of amazing. Mr. Coulson, however, kept pace with him steadily, andtoward midnight their acquaintance had steadily progressed until theywere certainly on friendly if not affectionate terms. A round of thesupper places, proposed by the Englishman, was assented to by Mr.Coulson with enthusiasm. About three o'clock in the morning Mr. Coulsonhad the appearance of a man for whom the troubles of this world areover, and who was realizing the ecstatic bliss of a temporary Nirvana.Mr. Gaynsforth, on the other hand, although half an hour ago he had beenboisterous and unsteady, seemed suddenly to have become once more thequiet, discreet-looking young Englishman who had first bowed to Mr.Coulson in the bar of the Grand Hotel and accepted with some diffidencehis offer of a drink. To prevent his friend being jostled by thesomewhat mixed crowd in which they then were, Mr. Gaynsforth drew nearerand nearer to him. He even let his hand stray over his person, as thoughto be sure that he was not carrying too much in his pockets.
"Say, old man," he whispered in his ear,--they were sitting side by sidenow in the Bal Tabarin,--"if you are going on like this, Heaven knowswhere you'll land at the end of it all! I'll look after you as well asI can,--where you go, I'll go--but we can't be together every secondof the time. Don't you think you'd be safer if you handed over yourpocketbook to me?"
"Right you are!" Mr. Coulson declared, falling a little over on oneside. "Take it out of my pocket. Be careful of it now. There's fivehundred francs there, and the plans of a loom which I wouldn't sell fora good many thousands."
Mr. Gaynsforth possessed himself quickly of the pocketbook, andsatisfied himself that his friend's description of its contents wasfairly correct.
"You've nothing else upon you worth taking care of?" he whispered. "Youcan trust me, you know. You haven't any papers, or anything of thatsort?"
Then Mr. James B. Coulson, who was getting tired of his part, suddenlysat up, and a soberer man had never occupied that particular chair inthe Bal Tabarin.
"And if I have, my young friend," he said calmly, "what the devilbusiness is it of yours?"
Mr. Gaynsforth was taken aback and showed it. He recovered himself asquickly as possible, and realized that he had been living in a fool'sparadise so far as the condition of his companion was concerned. Herealized, also, that the first move in the game between them had beenmade and that he had lost.
"You are too good an actor for me, Mr. Coulson," he said. "Suppose weget to business."
"That's all right," Mr. Coulson answered. "Let's go somewhere where wecan get some supper. We'll go to the Abbaye Theleme, and you shall havethe pleasure of entertaining me."
Mr. Gaynsforth handed back the pocketbook and led the way out of theplace without a word. It was only a few steps up the hill, and theyfound themselves then in a supper place of a very different class.Here Mr. Coulson, after a brief visit to the lavatory, during which heobliterated all traces of his recent condition, seated himself at one ofthe small flower-decked tables and offered the menu to his new friend.
"It's up to you to pay," he said, "so you shall choose the supper.Personally, I'm for a few oysters, a hot bird, and a cold bottle."
Mr. Gaynsforth, who was still somewhat subdued, commanded the bestsupper procurable on these lines. Mr. Coulson, having waved his hand toa few acquaintances and chaffed the Spanish dancing girls in their ownlanguage,--not a little to his companion's astonishment,--at last turnedto business.
"Come," he said, "you and I ought to understand one another. You areover here from London either to pump me or to rob me. You are either adetective or a political spy or a secret service agent of some sort, oryou are on a lay of your own. Now, put it in a business form, what can Ido for you? Make your offer, and let's see where we are."
Mr. Gaynsforth began to recover himself. It did not follow, because hehad made one mistake, that he was to lose the game.
"I am neither a detective, Mr. Coulson," he said, "nor a secret serviceagent,--in fact, I am nothing of that sort at all. I have a friend,however, who for certain reasons does not care to approach you himself,but who is nevertheless very much interested in a particular event, orrather incident, in which you are concerned."
"Good!" Mr. Coulson declared. "Get right on."
"That friend," Mr. Gaynsforth continued calmly, "is prepared to pay athousand pounds for full information and proof as to the nature of thosepapers which were stolen from Mr. Hamilton Fynes on the night of March22nd."
"A thousand pounds," Mr. Coulson repeated. "Gee whiz!"
"He is also," the Englishman continued, "prepared to pay anotherthousand for a satisfactory explanation of the murder of Mr. RichardVanderpole on the following day."
"Say, your friend's got the stuff!" Mr. Coulson remarked admiringly.
"My friend is not a poor man," Mr. Gaynsforth admitted. "You see,there's a sort of feeling abroad that these two things are connected.I am not working on behalf of the police. I am not working on behalf ofany one who desires the least publicity. But I am working for some onewho wants to know and is prepared to pay."
"That's a very interesting job you're on, and no mistake," Mr. Coulsondeclared. "I wonder you waste time coming over here on the spree whenyou've got a piece of business like that to look after."
"I came over here," Mr. Gaynsforth replied, "entirely on the matter Ihave mentioned to you."
"What, over here to Paris?" Mr. Coulson exclaimed.
"Not only to Paris," the other replied dryly, "but to discover one Mr.James B. Coulson, whose health I now have the pleasure of drinking."
Mr. Coulson drained the glass which the waiter had just filled.
"Well, this licks me!" he exclaimed. "How any one in their senses couldbelieve that there was any connection between me and Hamilton Fynes orthat other young swell, I can't imagine."
"You knew Hamilton Fynes," Mr. Gaynsf
orth remarked. "That fact came outat the inquest. You appeared to have known him better than most men. Mr.Vanderpole had just left you when he was murdered,--that also came outat the inquest."
"Kind of queer, wasn't it," Mr. Coulson remarked meditatively, "how Iseemed to get hung up with both of them? You may also remember that atthe inquest Mr. Vanderpole's business with me was testified to by thechief of his department."
"Certainly," Mr. Gaynsforth answered. "However, that's neither here northere. Everything was properly arranged, so far as you were concerned,of course. That doesn't alter my friend's convictions. This is abusiness matter with me, and if the two thousand pounds don't soundattractive enough, well, the amount must be revised, that's all. ButI want you to understand this, Mr. Coulson, I represent a man or asyndicate, or call it what you will."
"Call it a Government," Mr. Coulson muttered under his breath.
"Call it what you will," Mr. Gaynsforth continued, with an air ofnot having heard the interruption, "we have the money and we want theinformation. You can give it to us if you like. We don't ask for toomuch. We don't even ask for the name of the man who committed thesecrimes. But we do want to know the nature of those papers, exactlywhat position Mr. Hamilton Fynes occupied in the Stamp and Excise Dutydepartment at Washington, and, finally, what the mischief you are doingover here in Paris."
"Have you ordered the supper?" Mr. Coulson inquired anxiously.
"I have ordered everything you suggested," Mr. Gaynsforthanswered,--"some oysters, a chicken en casserole, lettuce salad, somecheese, and a magnum of Pommery."
"It is understood that you are my host?" Mr. Coulson insisted.
"Absolutely," his companion declared. "I consider it an honor."
"Then," Mr. Coulson said, pointing out his empty glass to the_sommelier_, "we may as well understand one another. To you I am Mr.James B. Coulson, travelling in patents for woollen machinery. If youput a quarter of a million of francs upon that table, I am still Mr.James B. Coulson, travelling in woollen machinery. And if you add amillion to that, and pile up the notes so high that they touch theceiling, I remain Mr. James B. Coulson, travelling in patents forwoollen machinery. Now, if you'll get that firmly into your head andstick to it and believe it, there's no reason why you and I shouldn'thave a pleasant evening."
Mr. Gaynsforth, although he was an Englishman and young, showed himselfto be possessed of a sense of humor. He leaned back in his seat androared with laughter.
"Mr. Coulson," he said, "I congratulate you and your employers. To thelower regions with business! Help yourself to the oysters and pass thewine."