“I am afraid, M. Verbier, you will form a very bad opinion of our establishment,” said M. Muller to him. “It is really a pity that you should have left the Cairo branch and come here just when these robberies have put the Royal Palace under a cloud.”
Henri Verbier smiled.
“You need not be afraid of my attaching too much importance to that,” he said. “I’ve been in hotel life for fifteen years now, in one capacity or another, and, as you may suppose, I’ve known similar cases before, so they don’t surprise me much. But one thing does surprise me, M. Muller, and that is that no clue has yet been found. I suppose the Board have done everything that can be done to trace the culprit? The reputation of the hotel is at stake.”
“I should think they have looked for him!” said M. Louis, with a pathetic shrug of his shoulders. “Why, they even upbraided me for having had the door opened for the thief! Luckily I had a good friend in Muller, who admitted that he had been completely imposed upon and that he had given the order for the fellow, whom he supposed to be the second-floor waiter, to be allowed to go out. I knew nothing about it.”
“And how was I to guess that the man was an impostor?” Muller protested.
“All the same,” Henri Verbier retorted, “it is uncommonly annoying for everybody when things like that happen.”
“So long as one has not committed any breach of orders, and so can’t be made a scapegoat of, one mustn’t grumble,” M. Muller said. “Louis and I did exactly what our duty required and no one can say anything to us. The magistrate acknowledged that a week ago.”
“He does not suspect anybody?” Henri Verbier asked.
“No: nobody,” Muller answered.
M. Louis smiled.
“Yes, he did suspect somebody, Verbier,” he said, “and that was your charming neighbour Mlle. Jeanne there.”
Verbier turned towards the young cashier.
“What? The magistrate tried to make out that you were implicated in it?”
The girl had only spoken a few words during the whole of dinner, although Henri Verbier had made several gallant attempts to draw her into the general conversation. Now she laughingly protested.
“M. Louis only says that to tease me.”
But M. Louis stuck to his guns.
“Not a bit of it, Mademoiselle Jeanne: I said it because it is the truth. The magistrate was on to you: I tell you he was! Why, M. Verbier, he cross-examined her for more than half an hour after the general confrontation, while he finished with Muller and me in less than ten minutes.”
“Gad, M. Louis, a magistrate is a man, isn’t he?” said Henri Verbier gallantly. “The magistrate may have enjoyed talking to Mlle. Jeanne more than he did to you, if I may suggest it without seeming rude.”
There was a general laugh at this sally on the part of the new superintendent, and then M. Louis continued:
“Well, if he wanted to make up to her he went a funny way to work, for he made her angry.”
“Did he really?” said Henri Verbier, turning again to the girl. “Why did the magistrate cross-examine you so much?”
The young cashier shrugged her shoulders.
“We have thrashed it out so often, M. Verbier! But I will tell you the whole story: during the morning of the day when the robbery was committed I had returned to Princess Sonia Danidoff the pocketbook containing a hundred and twenty thousand francs which she had given into my custody a few days before; I could not refuse to give it to her when she asked for it, could I? How was I to know that it would be stolen from her the same evening? Customers deposit their valuables with me and I hand them a receipt: they give me back the receipt when they demand their valuables, and all I have to do is comply with their request, without asking questions. Isn’t that so?”
“But that was not what puzzled the magistrate I suppose,” said Henri Verbier. “You are the custodian of all valuables, and you only complied strictly with your orders.”
“Yes,” M. Muller broke in, “but Mlle. Jeanne has only told you part of the story. Just fancy: only a few minutes before the robbery Mme. Van den Rosen had asked Mlle. Jeanne to take charge of her diamond necklace, and Mlle. Jeanne had refused!”
“That really was bad luck for you,” said Henri Verbier to the girl with a laugh, “and I quite understand that the magistrate thought it rather odd.”
“They are unkind!” she protested. “From the way they put it, M. Verbier, you really might think that I refused to take charge of Mme. Van den Rosen’s jewellery in order to make things easy for the thief, which is as much as to say that I was his accomplice.”
“That is precisely what the magistrate did think,” M. Louis interpolated.
The girl took no notice of the interruption, but went on with her explanation to Henri Verbier.
“What happened was this: the rule is that I am at the disposal of customers, to take charge of deposits or to return them to the owners, until nine p.m., and until nine p.m. only. After that, my time is up, and all I have to do is lock my safe and go: I am free until nine o’clock next morning. You know that it does not do to take liberties in a position
