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Updated: May 18, 2025
Always I would prefer the truth, if it were possible. When I saw you at the Opera in Paris I thought of you only as one of my best and most valued patrons. It was only as we stood there talking that another idea came into my head. I acted upon it. There was a reason why I took you to the Cafe des Deux Epingles!" "Go on, Louis," I said. "Go on."
You were brought to the Cafe des Deux Epingles a stranger, almost a guest, and your behavior there might very well have been resented by us." "If I have not said much," I answered, "please do not believe me any the less grateful." "Let that go," Monsieur Decresson said coldly. "Only I would remind you of this.
I always called Trieste Il Paradiso delle Sartorelle, because the sartorella was a prominent figure in Trieste, and Fortune's favourite. She was wont to fill the streets and promenades, especially on festa days, dressed a quatre epingles, powdered and rouged and coiffee as for a ball, and with or without a veil.
There is just one thing which I do not understand, and that is why he should have associated with such a pack of thieves as the people at the Cafe des Deux Epingles, and why he should be forced to make an ally I had almost said accomplice of Louis." "Well, you can't understand everything all at once," Ralph answered.
But when I lost all hope of ever seeing you again I took my little wax figure, and I began to work at it in quite another way. I did not try to model it with wooden matches any more, as I had been doing, but with hair pins. I even made use of epingles a la neige. But perhaps you do not know what epingles a la neige are? Well, I became more particular about than you can possibly imagine.
I asked eagerly. "Those who frequent the Cafe des Deux Epingles," she said slowly, "those who take advantage of the peculiar protection which some of those behind the scenes there are able to extend to their friends." I shook my head. "I know nothing of the place beyond that brief visit," I answered. "I know nothing of Louis except as a maitre d'hotel in my favorite restaurant.
"You mean to tell me, then, that you know nothing of Louis except as a maitre d'hotel, that you were a chance visitor to Paris this week?" "Absolutely," I answered. Suddenly a thought seemed to occur to her. She drew away from me. In her eyes I seemed to see reflected the tragedy of those few moments in the Cafe des Deux Epingles. "How can I believe you?" she exclaimed.
That is all. Mademoiselle comes for the first time. I know her not at all." "What do you think of his disappearance, Louis?" I asked. "What should I think of it, monsieur? I know nothing." "Mr. Delora, I am told," I continued, "is a coffee planter in South America." "I, too," Louis admitted, "have heard so much." "How came he to have the entree to the Cafe des Deux Epingles?" I asked.
There is a man who lies very near to death up there in the Cafe des Deux Epingles, and it must be decided within the next few hours what is to be done with him." "I am not sure that I understand, Louis," I said, lighting a cigarette. "You will understand at the Cafe Normandy in half an hour's time," Louis answered. "In the meanwhile, have you a servant? If not, summon the valet de chambre.
"I am not sure, Louis," I said, "that I do not believe that you had some object in taking me to the Cafe des Deux Epingles that night. Be honest with me. I can be a friend. I have influence here and there, and, as I think you know, I love adventures. Tell me what you know of this affair. Tell me if you had any motive in taking me to the Cafe des Deux Epingles that night?"
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