Arthur Train

“ Donaque with difficulty swallowed a smile that took effect only below his waistcoat. “So that it is quite out of the question that there has been any collusion—an ‘inside’ affair?” he inquired with the greatest deference.
“Utterly! The picture was stolen by thieves disguised as workmen. That has been demonstrated.”
“Quite so!” nodded Donaque. “And what is your theory as to the matter?”
“At present I am inclined to the belief,” returned the director with conclusiveness, “that some collector has caused the picture to be stolen simply for the gratification of his own private esthetic taste.” ”

“ Daily in crowds they had paid their devotion and gone away with a dimness in their eyes and a strange swelling in their breasts that for some peculiar reason made them throw all their coppers into the hat of the well-fed professional mendicant at the door, who shared profits equally with the five gendarmes on duty there. ”

“ Suddenly, unannounced, a telegraph receiver began ticking on a side table.
“The Prefecture,” remarked Dupré.
“Yes,” commented Donaque, “the ‘Madonna of the Blackbird ’ has been stolen again. As usual, the pneumatic has beaten the telegraph. What a fuss they are all making, and why do they bother me?”
This query was not a bid for the satisfaction of a personal egotism, for Donaque had none. He was one of the most matter-of-fact persons alive. It was but the mild protest of a man already overloaded with work—he cared for nothing else, and they all knew it. ”

“ Why, he hardly ever leaves the house now. Madame Fournier is the only one who goes out at all. Ah, there she is coming now. Perhaps you will get a fare.”
Donaque walked back to the cab and jerked up the head of the horse, which was trying to reach a lemon-peel in the gutter. Out of the tail of his eye he saw a smartly arrayed woman emerge from the door and address a word or two to the concierge. The latter whistled, and the detective touched his hat and clucked to the horse as the woman came across the sidewalk, holding her skirt in her hand. ”

“ He has traveled a great deal, has written much on matters connected with art, and is considered one of the ablest of European connoisseur's. Two years ago, however, having remained a bachelor up to his forty-third year, he surprised everybody by marrying a Russian actress. I can find out very little about her, except that she is reputed to be extravagant and has something of a temper. Nevertheless, M. Fournier is a devoted husband. They live at No. 4 Place du Palais Bourbon. Everybody speaks in the highest terms of M. Fournier, who is a scholarly man, sensitive, and gentle. ”

“ Have you studied the record of the managing director?”
“Yes, M’sieu,” replied Dupré. “He can be eliminated. He secured his position and his ribbon of the Légion d’Honneur through the activities of his wife, who was a niece of the Deputy Abbe. He is a pompous fool—and too stupid to be successfully dishonest. Besides, he has money of his own.” ”

“ The official gave him a couple of pudgy fingers. “I can hardly expect you to shed much light on the affair,” said he, bowing the detective stiffly out.
“Such men,” commented Donaque to himself as he put on his hat outside, “are of value only to add to the gaiety of the French nation!”
It was eight days later when Donaque, sitting in his study, pressed a button at his side and Dupré entered, clad in the blue blouse of a Paris working man. ”

“ By the way, Dupré, have you ever looked into color-photography? It is most interesting.”
The substitute waiter in the winter garden of the Hotel Ritz who brought Fräulein Oberlitz her tea next day was a bungling Swiss who spoke only German, and that with an atrocious Bernese accent. To hear him say “yaw” for “ja” and “nix” for “nein” made one crawl. ”

“ With a swiftly muttered imprecation in Russian, Madame Fournier snatched it up before Dupré could perform that service for her.
“Follow the fat woman,” commanded Donaque as Dupré closed the door with a bang. “So?” he repeated to himself with pursed lips, as he piloted the cab across the stream of vehicles and pedestrians in the Place Vendôme. “So?” ”