Jacques Futrelle

“ ACROSS the Place de l'Opéra from the Café de la Paix is a large sign in bold United States sort of letters, the sign of a great Chicago newspaper. Mr. Smith discovered it now for the first time, and the severe lines in his rugged face softened a little. It looked so homy and comfortable and United Statesy that it made him feel hungry all over, a hunger that took the form of an insane desire to see a United States flag, and to shake a United States hand, and to eat a United States pie—all of it, from upper crust to indigestion. Pie! Paris wouldn't be so bad if there was pie to be had. ”

“ Then Smith went on a tour of Paris looking for Clarke; and Paris detectives followed Smith about. The gendarmes had no authority to arrest Clarke, but just to keep him in view. A mysterious woman was also inquiring for Clarke, and also wondering why Smith was seeking him.
SOME one has said that the corner table of the Café de la Paix, that table on the sidewalk, precisely at the intersection of the Boulevard des Capucines with the Place de l'Opéra, is the exact center of the earth. ”

“ A waiter came and inquired what Monsieur would be so pleased as to have, inquired in the lisping English that nearly every waiter in Paris speaks. How could he be so honored as to serve Monsieur?
“Say, son,” queried Mr. Smith. “I wonder if by any chance you know what applejack is? Jersey lightning?”
“Applejack?” the waiter repeated painfully. “Jairsey lightning?”
“Applejack—it’s a drink,” Mr. Smith elucidated. “If you can find me a small glass of it—”
“Apple?” the waiter pondered. “Zat ees ze pomme. ”