Part 2 (1/2)

The people now came fast and furious through the square, increasing in numbers every moment, but through the bustle and hurry and clatter of tongues, we could hear a woman's voice screaming in evident distress.

Mingled with it was another sound which may have mystified the general crowd, but which De k.o.c.k and I could easily place.

”It is the parrot!” I exclaimed, as we started to run.

”You have your wish, _mon cher_, is it not so? But take it not so fast; we will be there in time. _Ciel_! What a row!”

The steps leading up to the restaurant were thronged with people, including two or three policemen. The dining-room was ablaze with light, and still full of visitors, most of whom, however, were moving about in a state of agitation. The upper windows were also lighted and wide open.

The screaming suddenly ceased, but not the parrot.

”For goodness sake don't say I told you!” It went on, louder than ever, over and over again.

”d.a.m.n the bird!” exclaimed De k.o.c.k. ”Policeman excuse me, but I am rather at home here. Let me go up, will you?”

”It looks bad, sir. I'd better keep behind.”

”Oh. It isn't murder or anything of that sort. I know them, pretty couple, they are!”

The next moment we were in a kind of sitting room over the restaurant proper. Madame Martinetti lay as if exhausted on a sofa while the highly excited parrot sang and screamed and tore at its cage as if for life.

Giuseppe was nowhere visible. ”Now then where's the other?” demanded the policeman who had just entered behind us, ”There's always two at this business. Show him up, now.” But Madame at first would deign no explanation. Presently on the entry of policeman No. 2 she admitted there had been a quarrel. Yes, she had quarrelled with her dear Giuseppe, (the officers grinned) and had driven him away. Yes, he had gone--gone forever, he had said so, never to come back, never, never!

”And leave this fine business to you, eh? No fear of that. I guess Mr.

Martinetti'll turn up all right in the morning, however, let us make a search, Joe.” But Giuseppe was not found; there were no traces of a struggle, and the policemen having done all they could retired. My friend and I, by what right I know not were the last to leave the room.

De k.o.c.k stood for some moments looking out of the window. I approached the parrot who was still screaming.

”If throwing a cloth over your head would stop you, I'd do it, my dear,” said I. To my surprise, it ceased its noise directly, and became perfectly quiet. Madame Martinetti looked around with a contemptuous smile.

”You have the secret as well,” said she. The bird turned to her and then returned to me. I became quite interested in it. ”Pretty Poll, pretty bird; would you like a cracker?”

De k.o.c.k laughed softly at the window. ”A cracker to such a bird as that!

Ask it another.” I actually, though with a timid air, opened the door of the cage and invited Polly to perch on my finger. She came, looking at me intensely all the while. I petted her little, which she took resignedly and with a faint show of wonder, then in answer to De k.o.c.k's summons put her back in the cage.

”I have the honour to wish madame a _bonsoir_,” said he, but the lady was still sulky and vouchsafed no answer.

We were soon out in the street.

”Do you know,” said De k.o.c.k slowly, lighting a cigar and looking up at the house, ”Do you know, I thought something had happened.”

”And don't you now.”

”I am not sure,” answered my friend.

CHAPTER II.

We were pardonably curious to see the papers next morning. The affair was dismissed in three lines, and although as De k.o.c.k swore, the case was one for Gaboriau, it certainly was not our business to look into it and in fact in a week's time I was back in Canada, and he up to his eyes in commercial pursuits. The main point remained clear, however, that Martinetti did _not_ come back, nor was he found, or traced or ever heard of again. Somebody took the business out of hand, as they say, and De k.o.c.k would occasionally write a P. S. to his letters like this--”Dined at poor Martinetti's, Chiante as usual. Ever yours.” Or it would be--”Drank to the production of your last new comedy at Martinetti's.” Once he stated that shortly after that memorable night Madame disappeared also, taking the parrot along. ”I begin to think they are a pair of deep ones and up to some big game” he wrote. For myself, I never entirely forgot the circ.u.mstance, although it was but once vividly recalled to my mind and that was in a theatre in Montreal. An American company from one of the New York theatres was performing some farcical comedy or other in which occurred the comic song, admirably sung and acted by Miss Kate Castleton, ”For goodness sake don't say I told you!”