‘American, you bet,’ said one of the loungers. ‘They’ll go anywhere and do anything.’
Just in front of her as she entered was a tall, clean-shaven man, faultlessly dressed in glossy silk hat and frock coat, with a flower in his button-hole. He looked around for a moment in search of a convenient table. As he hesitated, the girl hesitated; but when the waiter waved him to a small table laid for two, the girl immediately sat down behind him at the next table.
‘Excuse me, madam,’ said the waiter, ‘this table is set for four; would you mind –’
‘I guess,’ said the girl, ‘I’ll stay where I am.’ And the look in her eyes, as well as a certain sensation in the waiter’s palm, ensured her against further disturbance.
The restaurant was full of people lunching, singly or in twos, in threes and even larger parties; and many curious glances were directed to the girl who sat at a table alone and pursued her way calmly through the menu. But the girl appeared to notice no one. When her eyes were off her plate they were fixed straight ahead – on the back of the man who had entered in front of her. The man, who had drunk a half-bottle of champagne with his lunch, ordered a liqueur to accompany his coffee. The girl, who had drunk an aerated water, leaned back in her chair and wrinkled her brows. They were very straight brows that seemed to meet over her nose when she wrinkled them in perplexity. Then she called a waiter.
‘Bring me a sheet of notepaper, please,’ she said, ‘and my bill.’
The waiter laid the sheet of paper before her, and the girl proceeded, after a few moments thought, to write a few lines in pencil upon it. When this was done, she folded the sheet carefully, and laid it in her purse. Then, having paid her bill, she returned her purse to her dress pocket, and waited patiently.
In a few minutes the clean-shaven man at the next table settled his bill and made preparations for departure. The girl at the same time drew on her gloves, keeping her eyes immovably upon her neighbour’s back. As the man rose to depart, and passed the table at which the girl had been sitting, the girl was looking into the mirror upon the wall, and patting her hair. Then she turned and followed the man out of the restaurant, while a pair at an adjacent table remarked to one another that it was a rather curious coincidence for a man and woman to enter and leave at the same moment when they had no apparent connection.
But what happened outside was even more curious.
The man halted for a moment upon the steps at the entrance. The porter, who was in conversation with a policeman, turned, whistle in hand.
‘Hansom, sir?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ said the clean-shaven man.
The porter was raising his whistle to his lips when he noticed the girl behind.
‘Do you wish for a cab, madam?’ he asked, and blew upon his whistle.
As he turned again for an answer, he plainly saw the girl, who was standing close behind the clean-shaven man, slip her hand under his coat, and snatch from his hip pocket something which she quickly transferred to her own.
‘Well, I’m –’ began the clean-shaven man, swinging round and feeling in his pocket.
‘Have you missed anything, sir?’ said the porter, standing full in front of the girl to bar her exit.
‘My cigarette-case is gone,’ said the man, looking from one side to another.
‘What’s this?’ said the policeman, stepping forward.
‘I saw the woman’s hand in the gentleman’s pocket, plain as a pikestaff,’ said the porter.
‘Oh, that’s it, is it?’ said the policeman, coming close to the girl. ‘I thought as much.’
‘Come now,’ said the clean-shaven man, ‘I don’t want to make a fuss. Just hand back that cigarette-case, and we’ll say no more about it.’
‘I haven’t got it,’ said the girl. ‘How dare you? I never touched your pocket.’
The man’s face darkened.
‘Oh, come now!’ said the porter.
‘Look here, that won’t do,’ said the policeman, ‘you’ll have to come along of me. Better take a four-wheeler, eh, sir?’
For a knot of loafers, seeing something interesting in the wind, had collected round the entrance.
A four-wheeler was called, and the girl entered, closely followed by the policeman and the clean-shaven man.
‘I was never so insulted in my life,’ said the girl.
Nevertheless, she sat back quite calmly in the cab, as though she was perfectly ready to face this or any other situation, while the policeman watched her closely to make sure that she did not dispose in any surreptitious way of the stolen article.
At the police station hard by, the usual formalities were gone through, and the clean-shaven man was constituted prosecutor. But the girl stoutly denied having been guilty of any offence.
The inspector in charge looked doubtful.
‘Better search her,’ he said.
And the girl was led off to a room for an interview with the female searcher.
The moment the door closed the girl put her hand into her pocket, pulled out the cigarette-case, and laid it upon the table.
‘There you are,’ she said. ‘That will fix matters so far.’
The woman looked rather surprised.
‘Now,’ said the girl, holding out her arms, ‘feel in this other pocket, and find my purse.’
The woman picked out the purse.
‘Open it and read the note on the bit of paper inside.’
On the sheet of paper which the waiter had given her, the girl had written these words, which the searcher read in a muttered undertone:
‘I am going to pick this man’s pocket as the best way of getting him into a police station without violence. He is Colonel Mathurin, alias Rossiter, alias Connell, and he is wanted in Detroit, New York, Melbourne, Colombo, and London. Get four
