Part 66 (1/2)
”I am delighted to be a.s.sured that you recognize that fact,” Peter admitted.
”I might add,” John Dory continued, ”that this harmlessness--is of recent date.”
”Really, you do seem to know a good deal,” Peter confessed.
”I find myself still fencing,” Dory declared. ”A matter of habit, I suppose. I didn't mean to when I came. I made up my mind to tell you simply that Guillot was in London, and to ask you if you could help me to get rid of him.”
Peter looked thoughtfully into his companion's face, but he did not speak. He understood at such moments the value of silence.
”We speak together,” Dory continued softly, ”as men who understand one another. Guillot is the one criminal in Europe whom we all fear; not I alone, mind you--it is the same in Berlin, in Petersburg, in Vienna.
He has never been caught. It is my honest belief that he never will be caught. At the same time, wherever he arrives the thunder-clouds gather.
He leaves behind him always a trail of evil deeds.”
”Very well put,” Peter murmured. ”Quite picturesque.”
”Can you help me to get rid of him?” Dory inquired. ”I have my hands full just now, as you can imagine, what with the political crisis and these constant ma.s.s meetings. I want Guillot out of the country. If you can manage this for me, I shall be your eternal debtor.”
”Why do you imagine,” Peter asked, ”that I can help you in this matter?”
There was a brief silence. John Dory knocked the ash from his cigar.
”Times have changed,” he said. ”The harmlessness of your great Society, my dear Baron, is at present admitted. But there were days--”
”Exactly,” Peter interrupted. ”As shrewd as ever, I perceive. Do you know anything of the object of his coming?”
”Nothing.”
”Anything of his plans?”
”Nothing.”
”You know where he is staying?”
”Naturally,” Dory answered. ”He has taken a second-floor flat in Crayshaw Mansions, Shaftesbury Avenue. As usual, he is above all petty artifices. He has taken it under the name of Monsieur Guillot.”
”I really don't know whether there is anything I can do,” Peter decided, ”but I will look into the matter for you, with pleasure. Perhaps I may be able to bring a little influence to bear--indirectly, of course. If so, it is at your service. Lady Dory is well, I trust?”
”In the best of health,” Sir John replied, accepting the hint and rising to his feet. ”I shall hear from you soon?”
”Without a doubt,” Peter answered. ”I must certainly call upon Monsieur Guillot.”
Peter certainly wasted no time in paying his promised visit. That same afternoon he rang the bell at the flat in Crayshaw Mansions. A typical French butler showed him into the room where the great man sat. Monsieur Guillot, slight, elegant, pre-eminently a dandy, was lounging upon a sofa, being manicured by a young lady. He threw down his Pet.i.t Journal and rose to his feet, however, at his visitor's entrance.
”My dear Baron,” he exclaimed, ”but this is charming of you!
Mademoiselle,” he added, turning to the manicurist, ”you will do me the favor of retiring for a short time. Permit me.”
He opened the door and showed her out. Then he came back to Peter.
”A visit of courtesy, Monsieur le Baron?” he asked.