Edgar Wallace

“ There were the usual queer lot of people there that night. Society folks, a woman or two, the old camelot who sells the story of his life at the corner of the Rue Royale, and a gentleman whom Smith recognized as an official attached to one of the numerous embassies in Paris. Him he noted for future use and profit.
At two o'clock precisely came Cæsar Valentine, and with him Chi So, who usually accompanied him if he came through the lounge. Chi So's attitude was servile, his voice a wheedling whine, but Valentine said nothing. ”

“ It was probably an inn in the days of Louis, for beneath the building was one of the most spacious cellars in Paris. It was a great, vaulted room, about thirty feet from the keystone to the floor, and Chi So had turned this into what he called a “lounge” for his regular customers.
For weeks Tray-Bong Smith had turned into the “lounge” regularly at twelve o'clock every night, to bunk down with a pipe and a few busy thoughts till four o'clock in the morning. There were lots of reasons why he shouldn't wander about Paris at night. ”

“ Along the quay Smith could see two dim lights and guessed that these belonged to Valentine's motor car. He walked on, a little ahead of the exquisite, toward the car and was less than fifty feet from safety when a man came out of the darkness, gripped him by the coat, and swung him round as he flashed an electric lamp in his face. ”