He stroked his beard gloomily. “I have been thinking, Monsieur. Every hour we delay is in the thief’s favor.”
“Quite so. But…”
“Speaking as a businessman, I counsel immediate action. You must be firm with Koche, Monsieur.” He thrust his beard forward ferociously.
“I shall be very firm, Monsieur, I…”
But before I could get away the Vogels came up, shook hands with me and expressed their sorrow at my loss. Monsieur Duclos was not in the least put out by this evidence of his treachery.
“We have agreed, Monsieur Vogel and I,” he stated, “that the Commissaire of Police should be called in.”
“Five thousand francs,” nodded Herr Vogel weightily, “is a serious loss. A matter for the police, without a doubt. Monsieur Roux is of the same opinion. There is the safety of the other guests’ property to be considered. Mademoiselle Martin, a young lady of nervous disposition, is already frightened for her jewels. Monsieur Roux calmed her, but he informed me that unless the thief is discovered he will be forced to leave. Koche will be well advised to treat the matter more seriously. Five thousand francs!”-he requoted Monsieur Duclos’s version of my loss-“It is a serious thing.”
“Yes, indeed!” said Frau Vogel.
“You see!” put in Monsieur Duclos triumphantly, “the police must be called in.”
“With regard,” pursued Herr Vogel in a whisper, “to the question of your suspicions, Herr Vadassy, we feel that at the moment the police should not be told of them.”
“My suspicions?” I glanced at Monsieur Duclos. He had the grace to avoid my eye and fumble a little ostentatiously with his pince-nez.
Herr Vogel smiled indulgently. “I understand perfectly. It would be better to say nothing that might be construed as referring to”-he looked round swiftly and lowered his voice-“a certain person of English nationality, eh?” He winked. “These affairs must be handled with discretion, eh?”
“Yes, yes!” echoed Frau Vogel cheerfully.
I mumbled something about having no suspicious at all and made my escape. Monsieur Duclos was proving a rather compromising publicity agent.
Koche was waiting for me in the office.
“Ah, yes, Monsieur Vadassy, please come in.” He shut the door behind me. “A chair? Good. Now to business.”
I played my part. “I hope, Monsieur, that you have satisfactory news for me. This suspense is most distressing.”
He looked very grave.
“I am very much afraid, Monsieur, that my inquiries have yielded no result whatever.”
I frowned. “That is bad.”
“Very bad. Very bad, indeed!” He glanced at a paper before him, tapped it once or twice with his forefinger and looked up at me. “I have examined every member of the staff, including the waiters and the gardener, hoping that one of them might, at any rate, be able to throw some light on the affair.” He paused. “Frankly, Monsieur,” he went on quietly, “I feel that they are all telling me the truth when they say that they have no knowledge of the theft.”
“You mean that it must have been one of the guests?”
He did not reply for a moment. I began, for no reason that I could identify, to feel even more uneasy. Then he shook his head slowly. “No, Monsieur, I do not mean that it was one of the guests.”
“Then someone from outside?”
“Nor that either.”
“Then…?”
He leaned forward. “I have decided, Monsieur, that this is a case for the police.”
This was difficult. Beghin had made it clear that the police were not to be called in.
“But surely,” I protested, “that is the last thing you would wish to do. Think of the scandal.”
His lips tightened. This was a new Koche, no longer easygoing and good natured, a very businesslike Koche. There was, quite suddenly, an ugly tension in the atmosphere.
“Unfortunately,” he said bitingly, “the damage is already done. Not only are my guests aware of and discussing the affair, but one of them is actually being regarded by the others as a possible culprit.”
“I am sorry to hear that, I-”
But he ignored my interruption. “I asked you, Monsieur, to remain silent until I could investigate this matter. I find that, far from remaining silent, you have discussed the affair with your fellow guests in the most unfortunate manner.”
“I asked the advice in confidence of Monsieur Duclos relating to the question of informing the police. If Monsieur Duclos has been indiscreet, I am sorry.”
There was something very much like a sneer in his voice as he answered. “And what, pray, was Monsieur Duclos’s advice?”
“He advised me to call in the police, but out of deference to your-”
“Then, Monsieur, we are in perfect agreement. You have your opportunity.” He reached for the telephone. “I will communicate with the police at once.”
“One moment, Monsieur Koche!” His hand paused on the instrument. “I merely repeated Duclos’s advice. For my part I see no necessity for calling in the police.”
To my intense relief he took his hand from the telephone. Then he turned slowly and looked me in the eyes.
“I thought you wouldn’t,” he said deliberately.
“I feel sure,” I said, with all the amiability I could muster, “that you will handle this affair far more efficiently than the police. I do not wish to make a nuisance of myself. If the stolen articles are returned, well and good. If not-well-it cannot be helped. In any case, the police will be more of a hindrance than a help.”
“I believe you, Monsieur.” This time there was no doubt about the sneer. “I can quite believe that you would find the police a very grave hindrance.”
“I don’t think I understand you.”
“No?” He smiled grimly. “I have been in the hotel profession for a number of years, Monsieur. You will not, I feel sure, think me impolite if I tell you that I have encountered gentlemen of your persuasion before. I have learned to be careful. When you reported this alleged theft you told me that you had lost a cigarette-case. Later, when I suggested to you that you had described it as a gold case, you hesitated and got out of your difficulties by saying that it was both gold and silver. A little too ingenious, my friend. When I went into your room I noticed the blade of a pair of scissors lying on the floor by the suitcase. On the bed was the rest of the scissors. You looked at them twice, but did not comment on them. Why? They had obviously been used to force the case. They were important evidence. But you ignored them. You saw nothing significant in them because you knew how the case had been forced. You had forced it yourself.”
“Preposterous! I-”
“Again, you showed real concern when the camera was mentioned. When I pointed it out to you on the chair your emotion was quite genuine. No doubt you were afraid for the moment that something really had been stolen.”
“I-”
“You made another mistake over the valuation of the case. A case such as you described would be worth at least fifteen hundred francs. True, you said it was a gift, but even so you would scarcely undervalue it by fifty per cent. People who have lost things invariably go to the other extreme.”
“I have never-”
“The only thing that has puzzled me is your motive. The usual idea is for the injured guest to threaten the hotel with the police and the discomfiture of the other guests unless he or, more often she, receives compensation. It is well known that hotels are insured against such contingencies. But you are either new to the game or you have some other motive, for you told the guests immediately. Perhaps you would like to tell me what your motive really is.”
