"It's up to you to pay," he said, "so you shall choose the supper. Personally, I'm for a few oysters, a hot bird, and a cold bottle."Mr. Gaynsforth, who was still somewhat subdued, commanded the best supper procurable on these lines. Mr. Coulson, having waved his hand to a few acquaintances and chaffed the Spanish dancing girls in their own language,--not a little to his companion's astonishment,--at last turned to business.
"Come," he said, "you and I ought to understand one another. You are over here from London either to pump me or to rob me. You are either a detective or a political spy or a secret service agent of some sort, or you are on a lay of your own. Now, put it in a business form, what can I do for you? Make your offer, and let's see where we are."Mr. Gaynsforth began to recover himself. It did not follow, because he had made one mistake, that he was to lose the game.
"I am neither a detective, Mr. Coulson," he said, "nor a secret service agent,--in fact, I am nothing of that sort at all. I have a friend, however, who for certain reasons does not care to approach you himself, but who is nevertheless very much interested in a particular event, or rather incident, in which you are concerned.""Good!" Mr. Coulson declared. "Get right on.""That friend," Mr. Gaynsforth continued calmly, "is prepared to pay a thousand pounds for full information and proof as to the nature of those papers which were stolen from Mr. Hamilton Fynes on the night of March 22nd.""A thousand pounds," Mr. Coulson repeated. "Gee whiz!""He is also," the Englishman continued, "prepared to pay another thousand for a satisfactory explanation of the murder of Mr.
Richard Vanderpole on the following day.
"Say, your friend's got the stuff!" Mr. Coulson remarked admiringly.
"My friend is not a poor man," Mr. Gaynsforth admitted. "You see, there's a sort of feeling abroad that these two things are connected. I am not working on behalf of the police. I am not working on behalf of any one who desires the least publicity. But I am working for some one who wants to know and is prepared to pay.""That's a very interesting job you're on, and no mistake," Mr.
Coulson declared. "I wonder you waste time coming over here on the spree when you've got a piece of business like that to look after.""I came over here," Mr. Gaynsforth replied, "entirely on the matter I have mentioned to you.""What, over here to Paris?" Mr. Coulson exclaimed.
"Not only to Paris," the other replied dryly, "but to discover one Mr. James B. Coulson, whose health I now have the pleasure of drinking."Mr. Coulson drained the glass which the waiter had just filled.
"Well, this licks me!" he exclaimed. "How any one in their senses could believe that there was any connection between me and Hamilton Fynes or that other young swell, I can't imagine.""You knew Hamilton Fynes," Mr. Gaynsforth remarked. "That fact came out at the inquest. You appeared to have known him better than most men. Mr. Vanderpole had just left you when he was murdered,--that also came out at the inquest.""Kind of queer, wasn't it," Mr. Coulson remarked meditatively, "how I seemed to get hung up with both of them? You may also remember that at the inquest Mr. Vanderpole's business with me was testified to by the chief of his department.""Certainly," Mr. Gaynsforth answered. "However, that's neither here nor there. Everything was properly arranged, so far as you were concerned, of course. That doesn't alter my friend's convictions. This is a business matter with me, and if the two thousand pounds don't sound attractive enough, well, the amount must be revised, that's all. But I want you to understand this, Mr. Coulson, I represent a man or a syndicate, or call it what you will.""Call it a Government," Mr. Coulson muttered under his breath.
"Call it what you will," Mr. Gaynsforth continued, with an air of not having heard the interruption, "we have the money and we want the information. You can give it to us if you like. We don't ask for too much. We don't even ask for the name of the man who committed these crimes. But we do want to know the nature of those papers, exactly what position Mr. Hamilton Fynes occupied in the Stamp and Excise Duty department at Washington, and, finally, what the mischief you are doing over here in Paris.""Have you ordered the supper?" Mr. Coulson inquired anxiously.
"I have ordered everything you suggested," Mr. Gaynsforth answered,--"some oysters, a chicken en casserole, lettuce salad, some cheese, and a magnum of Pommery.""It is understood that you are my host?" Mr. Coulson insisted.
"Absolutely," his companion declared. "I consider it an honor.""Then," Mr. Coulson said, pointing out his empty glass to the SOMMELIER, "we may as well understand one another. To you I am Mr. James B. Coulson, travelling in patents for woollen machinery. If you put a quarter of a million of francs upon that table, I am still Mr. James B. Coulson, travelling in woollen machinery. And if you add a million to that, and pile up the notes so high that they touch the ceiling, I remain Mr. James B.
Coulson, travelling in patents for woollen machinery. Now, if you'll get that firmly into your head and stick to it and believe it, there's no reason why you and I shouldn't have a pleasant evening."Mr. Gaynsforth, although he was an Englishman and young, showed himself to be possessed of a sense of humor. He leaned back in his seat and roared with laughter.
"Mr. Coulson," he said, "I congratulate you and your employers.
To the lower regions with business! Help yourself to the oysters and pass the wine."
