Part 28 (1/2)

Antoine lifted his shoulders.

”But what could one do?” he exclaimed. ”Characters, they were easy enough to write--but were they worth the paper they were written on?

Indeed no!”

”Not only your waiters,” Dory continued, ”but those who stay in the hotels round here have sometimes an evil name.”

Antoine shrugged his shoulders.

”For myself,” he said, ”I am particular. We have but a few rooms, but we are careful to whom we let them.”

”Do you keep a visitors' book?”

”But no, Monsieur!” Antoine protested. ”For why the necessity? There are so few who come to stay for more than the night--just now scarcely any one at all.”

There entered, at that moment, a tall, thin man dressed in dark clothes, who walked with his hands in his overcoat pockets, as though it were a habit. He came straight to Dory and handed him a piece of paper.

John Dory glanced it through and rose to his feet. A gleam of satisfaction lit his eyes.

”Monsieur Antoine,” he said, ”I am sorry to cause you any inconvenience, but here is my card. I am a detective officer from Scotland Yard, and I have received information which compels me with your permission, to examine at once the sleeping apartments in your hotel.”

Antoine was fiercely indignant.

”But, Monsieur!” he exclaimed. ”I do not understand! Examine my rooms?

But it is impossible! Who dares to say that I harbor criminals?”

”I have information upon which I can rely,” John Dory answered, firmly.

”This comes from a man who is no friend of mine, but he is well-known.

You can read for yourself what he says.”

Monsieur Antoine, with trembling fingers, took the piece of paper from John Dory's hands. It was addressed to--

Mr. JOHN DORY, DETECTIVE:

If you wish to find Jean Lemaitre, search in the upper rooms of the Hotel de Flandres. I have certain information that he is to be found there.

PETER RUFF.

”Never,” Antoine declared, ”will I suffer such an indignity!”

Dory raised a police whistle to his lips.

”You are foolish,” he said. ”Already there is a cordon of men about the place. If you refuse to conduct me upstairs I shall at once place you under arrest.”

Antoine, white with fear, poured himself out a liqueur of brandy.

”Well, well,” he said, ”what must be done, then! Come!”

He led the way out into that smelly network of pa.s.sages, up the stairs to the first floor. Room after room he threw open and begged Dory to examine. Some of them were garishly furnished with gilt mirrors, cheap lace curtains tied back with blue ribbons. Others were dark, miserable holes, into which the fresh air seemed never to have penetrated. On the third floor they reached the little sitting-room, which bore more traces of occupation than some of the rooms below. Antoine would have pa.s.sed on, but Dory stopped him.