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Updated: May 10, 2025
A murder anywhere was bad enough, but a murder in the newest, the chic-est, and the costliest restaurant in Paris must cause more than a nine days' wonder. As M. Pougeot remarked, it was certainly bad for Gritz.
Obediently the dog trotted back along the trail, recrossing the street where he had crossed it before, and presently reaching the point where he had first caught the scent. Here he stopped, waiting for orders, eying M. Paul with almost speaking intelligence. "A wonderful dog," admired Gritz. "What kind is he?" "Belgian shepherd dog," answered Coquenil.
When he returned to Number Seven, M. Paul found that Gritz had kept his promise and sent him a pot of fragrant Turkish coffee, steaming hot, and a box of the choicest Egyptian cigarettes. Ah, that was kind! This was something like it! And, piling up cushions in the sofa corner, Coquenil settled back comfortably to think and dream.
They left the hotel by the main entrance, and were just going around into Rue Marboeuf when the concierge from across the way met them with word that Caesar had arrived. "Caesar?" questioned Gritz. "He's my dog. Ph-h-eet! Ph-h-eet! Ah, here he is!" and out of the shadows the splendid animal came bounding. At his master's call he had made a mighty plunge and broken away from Papa Tignol's hold.
The dog growled and went on guard forthwith. "Now, we'll have a look inside." The alleyway door stood open and, using his lantern with the utmost care, Coquenil went first, mounting the stairs slowly, followed by Gritz. At the top they came to a narrow landing and a closed door. "This opens directly into Number Seven?" asked the detective. "Yes." "Is it usually locked or unlocked?"
Wildly, fiercely she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately on the mouth their first kiss. And she murmured: "I love you, I love you." Then they led Kittredge away. It was a long night at the Ansonia and a hard night for M. Gritz. France is a land of infinite red tape where even such simple things as getting born or getting married lead to endless formalities.
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