H. Bedford-Jones

“ I did not blame her for fear, knowing thus abruptly that the prefecture loomed above her. They are devils, those French police—very efficient devils, serving a devilishly efficient master! The French law is merciless, much more merciless than our American law—and holding about one hundred per cent more justice for all concerned. ”

“ Clancy shrugged. “A name isn't a man, and gives no direct clue. Some little fellow squealed it, I suppose. A hundredweight of cocaine, Logan—some few hollow boot-soles, eh? Of course. Quite a few.”
He wiped the last pair of forceps, and laid them away, and chortled at me.
“The girl wont turn up. Somebody in the place saw you accompany that American woman to the office of the 'grand director,' as they call him. She'll be tipped off. Counting your perfume and tooth-brush, you're a hundred and eighty francs out of pocket.” ”

“ A tourist caught in Paris could be milked profitably at home—perhaps.
Was this the aim of the gang? Or as Clancy had hinted, was it an educational affair by which apt pupils were raised to greater heights of crime? Well, the girl must be made to talk. After seeing the pasty-faced man vanish down the Metro steps, I was morally certain she was in on the whole thing. Also, our pupil-and-teacher relationship would not last more than a lesson or two, and action must be prompt. I had no desire to be taking this girl out on interminable dinner-parties. Nothing ventured, nothing gained! ”

“ I had never seen him before.
“You'd better be hustling—it's past nine,” said Clancy cheerfully. “And best not come back here, Logan. You're apt to be followed; a girl who would talk like that to you is weak. She'll have talked to somebody else before this. Lose yourself, once you see her off, and get a train for Le Havre. Go to the Hotel Central, opposite the war memorial, at half-past eight tonight, I'll put a long-distance call through for you there at eight-thirty. If Gambin is on the Southampton boat-train, I'll know it.” ”

“ Solander stood against the wall, hands in air, while Marguerite crouched beside him. The pasty-faced man was being handcuffed by the Paris official. My Customs officer was holding a gun on all concerned, while his man lay on the floor with a knife in his throat; the pasty-faced-man sprawled above him with blood dripping from his shoulder. Clancy was calmly flipping over some papers he must have taken from Solander. A police whistle shrilled below, and feet were on the stairs. ”

“ It may seem rather incredible that an American should go about France accredited with practically full powers from the prefecture in Paris—yet if this American were the assistant of Peter J. Clancy!
“Cocaine-smuggling,” I said, and the officer nodded.
“It is a bad business, that,” he said quietly. “We have our own methods of cutting off the supply to the victims in France,—they center in Paris, Deauville and Nice,—but it is another matter of cutting off the supply that comes through France to England. Just what do you want, m'sieur?” ”

“ A couple of tourists paced the deck by the first-class entrance. I hoped against hope to see Marguerite and the pasty-faced man coming through the Customs shed, but there was no sign of them. I felt sure they were charged with getting the shipment into Gambin's hands—yet they had not come. I decided to wait until the very last instant. Men were grouped about the gangway, awaiting the word to swing it away, but I could jump to the dock if need were, for the tide was running out and the ship was low against the quay. ”

“ This it not an isolated case, Logan—it happens every day, in every one of the big shops here. It's one of the traps for tourists, but Americans seldom fall for it, because they're too sharp. A woman comes into the store; she's alone, a foreigner, unacquainted with the way things are done in Paris. Good! The shopgirl has a possible victim. She is in a hurry and buys one or two little things. The shopgirl tells her to put them in her bag, or perhaps she does it without being told. Usually she is told—this is the trap. It's done every day in every shop. ”

“ Early as it was,—not yet nine in the morning,—Peter J. Clancy got action when he was on the line. If there was anything this American dentist wanted and could not get, it was only because the Paris police did not have it.
In fifteen minutes a special messenger arrived with a photograph and the particulars from Gambin's dossier. Here, at least, the girl had told the truth—the man was known to the police. He had done two years for housebreaking, since when nothing had come up against him. A large man for a Frenchman, he had an open, honest sort of face, easily recognizable. ”

“ Kleptomania, not theft! This is our first experience with an American lady; we find many Germans, Belgians, English, but never before an American. I regret it most deeply, I assure you!”
He was quite sincere. I asked what would be done, and he shrugged.
“Nothing. It is a matter of a few francs—not worth the trouble. Perhaps you will see the poor woman on her way?”
I did so, convinced that she was a kleptomaniac. She was furious—was going to appeal to the bank, to the consulate, to the police. I saw her to her hotel, and then went along to Clancy's office. ”

“ Around the corner came Bill and another seaman shoving the reluctant Norman along between them.
“If it were possible—but it is not. If I tell you all, I should not live to profit by any reward. For this reason, even if I wished—”
She finished with a most expressive gesture, and it made me pause momentarily for thought.
Clancy must have been right—it was something big! Only something big could so terrify this girl, could so fill her with the fear of death itself. Yet I had ten thousand francs to play with!
“Have you friends outside Paris?” I asked thoughtfully. ”

“ Now, tourist traps go into all sorts of ramifications.”
True enough, as I knew. From Deauville to Nice, pleasure-seeking tourists were the prey of the harpies, despite all the efforts at protection exerted by the French government. They had themselves to thank for most of it, naturally.
“Dope-smuggling is is running the Government ragged,” went on Clancy. “Go to it! You know the store; you know the city; finally, there's the Havre-Southampton route. These people work de luxe, by regular steamers. Want any money?” ”

“ We could safely leave the cabaret deserted, so that Marguerite and her pasty-faced man might walk into the trap unsuspecting.
I led on up the narrow stairs, walking very gently. This little den among the stews of the waterfront would be the last place where anyone would expect to find a Deauville celebrity, not to mention an American-Parisian business man; obviously they were the men higher up in the ring, and yet I was keenly disappointed over the whole affair. A smuggling game, even en a grand scale, seemed rather a petty affair to employ Peter J. Clancy. ”

“ Coster—yes. Mercy, m'sieur! I will tell everything—”
“Get him out of here in a hurry and let him tell,” I said to my officer. “Quick! So you didn't think the other pair would come back here, eh?” And I gave Clancy a triumphant look. “Well, they'll be back. Suppose we slide upstairs and see what we can see.”
Clancy and the Paris official, my officer and his one man, remained, after sending the proprietor of the place away under guard. Five of us were enough, obviously. Clancy, who was immensely delighted by the way luck was playing into my hand, clapped me on the back and told me to lead on. ”

“ Clancy chuckled, took out a cigarette, and watched as our victims were taken from the room one by one. “Look, now! There's Marguerite Cibourne—her husband, that chap with the pasty complexion, is the mysterious Cibourne at the head of the coke traffic. He's in for murder as well, now. Count one.”
I grunted. Clancy held a match to his cigarette, and jerked his head.
“There goes Solander—he's the big man in the blackmailing crowd, the head of that section. Works badger-games, smuggling, and so forth, on our gentle tourists from America. Exit Solander. ”

“ Coster follows; he's at the head of the gang in the south, with Nice for his headquarters. An accomplished blackleg, this Coster—he works gambling and other side-lines, gets the victims in shape for Solander to milk.”
Clancy's sharp gray eyes bored into me maliciously.
“So you don't like smuggling work, eh?” he observed. “Well, I told you this was something big, and it is. The biggest organization of crooks in France, their activities directed against English and American tourists. And we climbed to them, Logan, from that petty training-ground of the department-stores in Paris—you see, now? ”

“ She smiled a little, and we entered the restaurant.
As we came to a table, I checked her slightly, and put a card into her hand.
“One must always be polite,” I murmured. “Especially pupil and teacher! Here is my card, mam'selle. You have not yet told me your name.”
She laughed slightly, as though amused by my awkwardness.
“It is Marguerite,” she answered readily, “—Marguerite Cibourne.”
SELECTING an excellent dinner, I got rid of the waiter; then the wine-boy brought his card and I passed it to my vis-à-vis. ”

“ So Guilbert could turn many a dishonest penny in his travels, without suspicion pointing to him—the more so as woolens destined for Paris or returned to England would be heavy. A regular traveler, with a definite standing, representing a large firm, the Customs officials would never dream of molesting him. ”

“ I responded. “Yet the penalties in France for traffic in illicit drugs are rather heavy. And the reward, if I learn what I wish, is equally heavy.”
So speaking, I quietly put the hundred-franc note under her bag, which lay on the table. The purplish thousand-franc note I half extended. She lifted her hand, but instead of taking the note, made a slight gesture.
I turned swiftly. There by the corner entrance of the restaurant stood the pasty-faced addict who had dived down the Metro entrance. He slipped away out of sight, but not before I had seen him. I turned back and smiled a little. ”

“ Newhaven-Dieppe is variable; you never know whether the Customs will be asleep or awake. But by Havre-Southampton, you dump down your grip, and the Customs man puts a chalk-mark on it while he's reciting the list of dutiable articles. Yes, it must be Havre-Southampton. The air-route is never examined, but the people who fly are known after the second trip.”
I looked at him in puzzled wonder.
“And what,” I demanded, “has all this touring information got to do with a supposed kleptomaniac and a tourist trap in Paris?”
“I told you,” responded Clancy absent-mindedly. “Coke.” ”

“ I made a gesture, touching the crisp bank-note, and she shivered a little, then went on.
“At Havre he meets a man in an automobile—a man once imprisoned for such work.” She wet her lips, and the words seemed dragged from her. “His car leaves for Dieppe, and Gambin waves him off, then goes to a hotel. The agents follow the other to Dieppe, and find nothing. At the last minute, at midnight, Gambin leaves his hotel and goes aboard the Southampton boat. He takes nothing on the boat with him.” ”

“ Little things lead to big things. Of course.”
“What do you mean by trapped?” I demanded. “It was a clear-cut case. You know a big store like that doesn't want to trump up false charges—”
He waved his cigarette with a derisive gesture, and I fell silent.
“Take the case of a shopgirl getting from one to two hundred francs per month wages,” he observed. “Tourists flood around her, spending money regardlessly. She is tempted, and she finds one or two friends in the same department who are also tempted. Voilà, as the French say! There you have the nucleus.” ”

“ And she had the usual animal-like nostril of the lower-class French woman; pretty in a way, yet of the earth earthy. The French maxim that one need not be ashamed of anything the good God has made, leaves its mark. ”

“ And does it hurt anybody? The tourists, perhaps—bah! Who cares about a tourist, flinging money around like dirt? Everybody else gets their easy money. Should we poor folk not touch a bit of it, when it means so much to us?”
“I'm glad you admit it,” I said dryly.
“I admit nothing, m'sieur,” she retorted with sudden energy. “You have been kind, but now I understand the reason. See, here is your hundred francs. ”

“ The gangway's off now—you'll have to jump for it—”
“Hold up your boat five minutes, Captain!” I exclaimed. “I've got the whole game now—the stuff is just coming aboard—”
He looked over the bridge rail at the quay, where the gangway was just being lowered out.
“Coming by air, perhaps?” he said with heavy irony.
“No, by boat. Take my word for it—bring along a couple of men! It's coming up the side now, I tell you—”
“Hold up for five minutes—hm! Want to get your man ashore, eh? Go ahead.” He snapped an order, and two helmsmen came on the jump. “Your move, Mr. Logan—”
I lost no time moving. ”

“ In another moment I was in the taxi with my seaman, and we were speeding down toward the quay, not far away. Arrived there, I paid off my driver, and the seaman followed me into the entry shed and the oblong of the Customs benches. One or two tourists were being perfunctorily passed; another was having his passport examined. I turned to the agent on duty at the doorway of the shed, and described Marguerite and her companion. ”