“Of course, of course! At nine o’clock
at Piccadilly Circus?”
“Exactly.”
M. Gaston, this business satisfactorily completed,
made his way to his own room by a somewhat devious
route, not wishing to encounter anyone of his numerous
acquaintances whilst in an apparent state of ill-health
so calculated to excite compassion. He avoided
the lift and ascended the many stairs to his small
apartment.
Here he rectified the sallowness of his complexion,
which was due, not to outraged nature, but to the
arts of make-up. His dilated pupils (a phenomenon
traceable to drops of belladonna) he was compelled
to suffer for the present; but since their condition
tended temporarily to impair his sight, he determined
to remain in his room until the time for the appointment
with Gianapolis.
“So!” he muttered—“we
have branches in Europe, Asia, Africa and America!
Eh, bien! to find all those would occupy five hundred
detectives for a whole year. I have a better plan:
crush the spider and the winds of heaven will disperse
his web!”
M. MAX OF LONDON AND M. MAX OF PARIS
He seated himself in a cane armchair and, whilst the
facts were fresh in his memory, made elaborate notes
upon the recent conversation with the Greek.
He had achieved almost more than he could have hoped
for; but, knowing something of the elaborate organization
of the opium group, he recognized that he owed some
part of his information to the sense of security which
this admirably conducted machine inspired in its mechanics.
The introduction from Sir Brian Malpas had worked wonders,
without doubt; and his own intimate knowledge of the
establishment adjoining the Boulevard Beaumarchais,
far from arousing the suspicions of Gianapolis, had
evidently strengthened the latter’s conviction
that he had to deal with a confirmed opium slave.
The French detective congratulated himself upon the
completeness of his Paris operation. It was evident
that the French police had succeeded in suppressing
all communication between the detained members of the
Rue St. Claude den and the head office—which
he shrewdly suspected to be situated in London.
So confident were the group in the self-contained
properties of each of their branches that the raid
of any one establishment meant for them nothing more
than a temporary financial loss. Failing the
clue supplied by the draft on Paris, the case, so far
as he was concerned, indeed, must have terminated with
the raiding of the opium house. He reflected
that he owed that precious discovery primarily to
the promptness with which he had conducted the raid—to
the finding of the letter (the one incriminating
letter) from Mr. King.
Evidently the group remained in ignorance of the fact
that the little arrangement at the Credit Lyonnais
had been discovered. He surveyed—and
his eyes twinkled humorously—a small photograph
which was contained in his writing-case.
