“The fact is,” she repeated, “I have a friend — and I will see her — see him, this very night, and meet you here tomorrow evening with some good news.”
I appeared not to be particularly interested. In fact, I assumed a little temper for the occasion.
“Huh!” said I, with a shrug of the shoulders. “You were going to fix it for me to meet your mademoiselle, whoever she is, and nothing came of it. Now you say you have a friend, some mysterious friend whom you will see before I buy any more jewels.
“Very well, I shall trust you once more, and that will be the finish unless you produce something, some one out of all this mystery.” At this juncture I laughed as though to put her in a good humor.
“Another thing,” I continued, “it draws close to Noël. There is barely time now to get presents to America. So if you know of any snaps in the jewelry line, get busy.”
“I’m sorry,” returned the old hag, “monsieur will understand later, it is not my fault, these delays.”
After dinner, I strolled across the Place de la Concorde to the commencement of the Champs Élysées, with young Pierre Carnot following me in case I needed him. Operative Hobbs had already got word to me that Mlle. Jeanne and the old woman were walking along the Champs in the direction of Place de l’Étoile.
I soon spotted the pair and walked directly toward them. The old woman began bowing when she saw me and was evidently telling her mistress who I was. As I came closer to them I stopped and there was nothing the old crone could do but introduce me to mademoiselle, who smiled and shook hands agreeably enough.
She was not only pretty but beautiful, probably five feet six in height and of the Norman French type, with light brown hair and dark blue eyes.
Her charming smile displayed rows of small, white, even teeth and in spite of her beauty it was easy enough to perceive she apparently lacked vanity.
Mademoiselle accepted my invitation to go to some café in the neighborhood and have some refreshments. At a signal from her mistress, the aged crone hobbled away, and we soon found a place that appeared satisfactory, on rue St. Honoré close by Avenue de Marigny. I noticed my companion rather insisted on a certain table and preferred to sit facing the entrance.
“A pet idiosyncrasy of mine, monsieur,” she smiled. “I do not like to sit with my back to the door of a café. I... don’t know exactly why.”
I had the feeling her eyes were sizing me up from top to bottom. From what followed it was apparent she had decided I was all right and to be trusted, with certain reservations.
“The old woman, Margot, was telling me you wanted to buy some jewels,” she began, smiling good-naturedly, “and I thought perhaps if you desired it so, I might help you.”
“I would be delighted if you did,” I responded, taking the ring I had shown Margot from my pocket and handing it to her. As the waiter served us, she looked it over with considerable care.
“Very good,” said my companion, “only the price of twelve thousand francs was entirely too much. I am afraid you Americans often get the worst of it here in Paris. Let me tell you a little something about myself, for it has to do with what may follow.
“I am an orphan and enjoy a small income, but it is not enough for a girl of my rather expensive tastes. So, instead of going into business, running a lingerie shop or some such nonsense, I add to my income quite a little by dealing in jewelry of various sorts — principally in precious stones.
“Of course, this is a secret from my friends of the St. Germain crowd and others. They might approve and they also might not.
“At any rate, I take no chances on that score. Now, if you can keep a close tongue in your mouth I can get you all the diamonds, pearls, emeralds and even rubies that you might want, for say a quarter of the regular price.”
I must retain the role I had assumed of the extravagantly rich American, and yet one who was not quite a fool with his money.
“Of course,” said I, “even when one considers spending a considerable sum on such baubles, one must be careful. In the case of this ring, I must confess I was hasty. I’m not usually so. I’ve been having quite a little fling in Paris, and thought twelve thousand francs for a little ring, comparatively speaking, did not count for much.
“I understand perfectly all you have said about your income and your station in life and in society. Of course, I am not counting on buying a great Jot of stuff, but if you can put me on the track of some real bargains I will be very glad to consider buying from you or through you as the case may be. The matter of the duty — the ad valorem—”
“Oh, as to that” — she laughed merrily — “there are various ways of getting around that. I happen to know several of them. Every one does it, you know, I mean beats the duty.”
She returned the ring to me and sipped at the champagne I had ordered. Meanwhile she was taking most thorough stock of myself.
Then, as if taking a sudden determination, she reached down under the table, as though perhaps adjusting her skirt or stocking, and brought forth a bracelet of diamonds and emeralds, by far the most elaborate piece of jewelry of its kind I had ever seen.
As it lay on the table between us I glanced around as though fearful some of the habitues of the place might see it and suspect something.
“Never mind them, monsieur,” said she, laughing gayly, “even if any one noticed it they would swear it must be paste. But — it is distinctly not. It is the real thing. Its original value — its value right now for the matter of that, is close to ten thousand dollars American money, say two hundred and fifty thousand francs.”
She shrugged her shoulders very prettily and accepted one of my cigarettes with the utmost sang-froid. “And that, my dear monsieur, is but a sample of what I have to offer.” Again she laughed, then, “I talk like a shopkeeper, do I not? In fact, I speak as one of the petit bourgeoisie?”
“Not at all,” I responded, as her laughter died away into a fascinating ripple. “Hardly that. If anything, you are certainly an aristocrat, mademoiselle.”
“Thank you,” she responded, nodding, “but, as I say, I can manage to get you what you want in the way of jewels, set or unset, much cheaper than you can get them yourself. You see, I have access to certain channels, certain dealers we will call them, and, well, I can get them.
“Now, this bracelet you may have for — let me see — well, I will let you have it for fifty thousand francs, two thousand dollars in American money.”
I was prepared for just such a contingency as this. I knew the bracelet was worth, even at a quick sale, anywhere in the world, as much as she asked me for it. The clients of our International Police and Detective Organization would be very glad to get hold of such a treasure as this for twice the price, and the original owner, assuming it had been stolen, as I believed, would be glad to redeem it. And if not, it fitted in with my plans to make the purchase anyway.
Consequently without further delay, and without the slightest hesitancy I drew forth a fat wallet from an inside pocket and counted out the money. As I shoved the pile of francs to her across the table and pocketed the bracelet, she smiled and held out her hand.
“I see, monsieur,” said the girl, “that you are a man after my own heart. And — I can tell by the look in your eyes, that you are no man’s fool or woman’s either. You know jewels when you see them. I could tell that by the way you inspected the bracelet.