The Case of the Dead Diplomat by Basil Thomson Page B

lighted. Richardson sat on for nearly half an hour, wondering what this chance meeting with Polowski would bring him.

Chapter Eight
    P OLOWSKI and his unrecognized friend led poor Cooper a dance. It would be impossible to imagine anything more futile than the proceedings of the quarry. They crossed the Boulevard Haussmann and turned into the rue Vignon, which they followed up to the back door of the Café Veil; they pushed through the back door while Cooper strolled round to the front. He knew that he was taking a risk of losing such wary birds, but it would never have done for him to follow them in. His heart gave a bound when he recognized them sitting in the crowded front of the café and giving their order to the waiter. They had passed clean through the building.
    The café being a wide one, Cooper was able to pass through another door into the interior and place himself almost behind them with a plate-glass window between. He ordered a drink and kept a wary eye upon their movements. They were deep in conversation; presently they rose to greet a third man, who sat down beside them. Their heads went together; they must have been talking almost in whispers. Cooper beckoned to the waiter and paid his bill, but sat on where he was until his men had also paid for their drinks, when they went off in the direction of the Madeleine. Fortunately for Cooper the Boulevard was crowded with employees going home; he could follow his men without risk. They skirted the Madeleine and walked down the rue Tronchet in the direction of St. Lazare station. Apparently all three were bent upon some quest that they had in common. They climbed the steps to the booking office; went to the window marked first class, and Cooper pressed in behind them near enough to see that Polowski asked for three first-class return tickets to le Pecq. On this he himself took a second-class single for the same place, seated himself in the train, after seeing his quarry enter a first-class compartment, and became busy with his thoughts.
    â€œReturn tickets?” he mused. That meant an evening call upon someone in le Pecq. Where were they going to dine? Or were they keeping a dinner appointment in le Pecq? What an extraordinary coincidence that he should have to visit le Pecq twice in two days. Surely this could not be the luck that his colleague Richardson was always counting upon—that this second visit to le Pecq would prove to be connected with the first. That third man? Who was he? A man with a cauliflower ear and a nose a little out of the straight; a man with the powerful torso of a prize-fighter would not be a pleasant guest in any civilized dining-room. They must be going to pay a short evening call. Clearly the little party would be worth following.
    Then he turned to the question of how this could be done in the dark. The train was a slow one, stopping at every station to drop passengers who spent their working days in Paris. Most of them would be put down long before le Pecq was reached. He would have to stay in his compartment until his little party had passed the barrier. Would he be able to pick them up again in the dark? Heavens! How this train loitered!
    Croissy at last—the next station before le Pecq. At least a hundred people alighted; the train proceeded nearly empty. But in the light from the platform lamps Cooper had satisfied himself that none of the three men was among them. He moved to the sliding door to get a better view. The train slowed down—the brakes were applied—it pulled up, and was scarcely at rest before three first-class passengers leapt out and were at the barrier with their tickets. They had given no backward glance at the train. But they were out of sight and might have turned either way at the entrance to the station.
    Cooper covered the intervening yards quicker than he ever remembered running; describing his gait afterwards, he said that he had taken to wing. Instinctively he avoided the light