Читать книгу The Kidnapping of Madame Storey and Other Stories (Madame Storey) - Footner Hulbert - Страница 4

When Mme. Storey and I arrived at Monte Carlo she registered us at the Hôtel de Paris as Mrs. Renfrew and Miss Renfrew. I was to pass as her sister-in-law for the time being. She wanted to avoid the attentions of society and the press.

But she couldn't get away with it. I noticed that the clerk looked at her hard and consulted a photograph under his desk. Presently an elegant gentleman came bustling up and introduced himself as le directeur. Bowing like a jack-knife he ushered us with his own magnificent presence to a beautiful suite on the second floor. I am sure they were the best rooms in the house; imperial suite; millionaire's love-nest.

"Ah, tres-belle!" said Mme. Storey, looking around her. "But much too grand for me, Monsieur. I can't afford it."

"Non! Non!" he protested, waving his hands, "you misunderstand, Madame. Your privacy will be respected, but we know who you are. You shall be the guest of the principality of Monaco as long as you will honour us. His Highness the Prince has commanded it!"

"Nice of him," said Mme. Storey.

When the little man had vanished in a cloud of compliments, she said to me dryly, "Something tells me there's a nigger in this elegant woodpile, my Bella!"

However, the rooms were lovely, a corner suite with windows on one side looking out on the Casino and the gardens, and on the other the ineffable blue sea. Whatever they may say, the old Paris is still one of the hotels in the world, and they went all out for us. Bell-boys arrived in a procession bringing baskets of flowers, fruit, boxes of chocolates.

Presently, as if to give point to Mme. Storey's words, another elegant gentleman arrived in our salon, less showy than the first, but better style. Prominent Executive was written all over him, or whatever the French equivalent may be; but I shall refer to our caller merely as Monsieur B.

He kissed our hands and when the inevitable compliments had been delivered, came right down to business. "This lady," he asked politely, looking at me, "may I speak before her?"

"My secretary, Miss Brickley," said Mme. Storey. "She is present at all interviews."

"Nothing could be more opportune than your visit to Monte Carlo at this time," said Monsieur B. enthusiastically. "I have read so much of your successes in solving intricate crimes. Of all people in the world you are the one I most wish to consult with. Professionally, I mean."

"But I'm on my vacation," objected Mme. Storey.

"No matter! No matter! You can deal with this affair without interfering in the least with your pleasures."

"What is it?" she asked.

His face turned grave. "There is a gang of young men operating here," he said, "what shall I say? gigolos. Every day ladies are being blackmailed and in some cases robbed. It culminated last week in the suicide of a lady of title here in one of our hotels."

"I hadn't heard of it," said Mme. Storey.

"We kept it out of the papers," he said, "but of course it's a matter of common gossip. People say naturally that she lost all she possessed at the gaming tables. But that is not so. She was betrayed, robbed and blackmailed by these scoundrels, and the unfortunate lady could not face her family."

Mme. Storey was not attracted by the case. "Gigolos?" she said, running up her eyebrows. "Surely that's a matter for your police."

"They are helpless," said Monsieur B., spreading out his hands. "When we make an arrest there is never any evidence because the victim will not testify. When these young men become known to us we can put them on the train. But soon they return. Or others take their places. We can forbid them to enter the Casino, the Sporting Club or the hotels under our management, but they pick up their victims outside. And if they suspect that the eye of the police is on them, they tempt the infatuated women to accompany them to Mentone, or Nice, or Cannes, where they are out of our jurisdiction."

Mme. Storey sent a droll glance in my direction. Evidently Monte Carlo was losing business. That was the real rub.

"The gigolos, in themselves, they are nothing," Monsieur B. went on, dismissing them with a gesture. "What makes them dangerous is the fact that they are organised and directed by a subtle intelligence here in Monte Carlo. Find that man or that woman, Madame; break up this ring, and you may ask what you will of us!"

She shook her head. "I am on my vacation," she said. "I am weary of crime. Better order me changed to a more modest suite, Monsieur, and forget about me."

"Never! Never!" he protested. "In any case you remain our guest, Madame."

He brought up all the arguments he could muster. Would she not, as a woman, undertake to rescue her fellow-woman from these birds of prey? Some of the victims had been American ladies. Did she not feel it her duty to ... etc., etc. Mme. Storey continued to smile, and to shake her head quite firmly; and being an experienced man he soon saw that it was useless. He left us.