Part 20 (1/2)
LOUIS EXPLAINS
Louis returned of his own accord before long.
”Monsieur has been well served?” he asked genially.
”Excellently, Louis,” I answered, ”so far as the mere question of food goes. You have not, however, managed to satisfy my curiosity.”
”Monsieur?” he asked interrogatively.
”Concerning the Deloras,” I answered.
Louis shrugged his shoulders.
”But what should I know?” he asked. ”Mr. Delora, he has come here last year and the year before. He has stayed for a month or so. He understands what he eats. That is all. Mademoiselle comes for the first time. I know her not at all.”
”What do you think of his disappearance, Louis?” I asked.
”What should I think of it, monsieur? I know nothing.”
”Mr. Delora, I am told,” I continued, ”is a coffee planter in South America.”
”I, too,” Louis admitted, ”have heard so much.”
”How came he to have the _entree_ to the Cafe des Deux Epingles?”
I asked.
Louis smiled.
”I myself,” he remarked, ”am but a rare visitor there. How should I tell?”
”Louis,” said I, ”why not be honest with me? I am certainly not a person to be afraid of. I am very largely in your hands over the Tapilow affair, and, as you know, I have seen too much of the world to consider trifles. I do not believe that Mr. Delora came to London to sell his crop of coffee. I do not believe that you are ignorant of his affairs. I do not believe that his disappearance is so much a mystery to you as it is to the rest of us--say to me and to mademoiselle his niece.”
Louis' face was like the face of a sphinx. He made no protestations. He denied nothing. He waited simply to see where I was leading him.
”I am not sure, Louis,” I said, ”that I do not believe that you had some object in taking me to the Cafe des Deux Epingles that night. Be honest with me. I can be a friend. I have influence here and there, and, as I think you know, I love adventures. Tell me what you know of this affair. Tell me if you had any motive in taking me to the Cafe des Deux Epingles that night?”
Louis looked around the room with keen, watchful eyes. Without abandoning his att.i.tude of graceful attention to what I was saying, he seemed in those few moments to be absorbing every detail of the progress of the affairs in the restaurant itself. The arrangement of the service at some tables a little way off seemed to annoy him. He frowned and called one of his subordinates, speaking in a rapid undertone to him, and with many gestures. The man hurried away to obey his instructions, and Louis turned to me.
”Monsieur,” said he, ”there are many times when it is not wise or politic to tell the truth. There are many times, therefore, when I have to speak falsehoods, but I will confess that I do not like it. Always I would prefer the truth, if it were possible. When I saw you at the Opera in Paris I thought of you only as one of my best and most valued patrons. It was only as we stood there talking that another idea came into my head. I acted upon it. There was a reason why I took you to the Cafe des Deux Epingles!”
”Go on, Louis,” I said. ”Go on.”
”I took you there,” Louis continued, ”because I knew that some time during the night Tapilow would come. Already I knew what would happen if you two met.”
”You wished it to happen, then?” I exclaimed.
Louis bowed.
”Monsieur,” he said, ”I did wish it to happen! The person of whom we have spoken is no friend of mine, or of my friends. He had entered into a scheme with certain of them, and it was known that he meant to play them false. He deserved punishment, and I was content that he should meet it at your hands.”