They used my study for purposes of their own, and glared at me when
I presumed to intrude upon their privacy. Mr. Pless took possession
of this room, and here received all sorts of secret operatives engaged
in the task of unearthing the former Mrs. Pless. Here he had as many
as fifteen reports a day by messenger from all parts of the land and
here he discussed every new feature of the chase as it presented itself,
coolly barring me out of my sanctum sanctorum with the impassive command
to knock before attempting to enter.
In spite of their acrimonious tilts over the card table, he and the
baron were as thick as could be when it came to the question of the
derelict countess. They maintained the strictest privacy and resented
even the polite interest of their four American friends.
Finding Mr. Poopendyke at work over some typing one day, Mr. Pless
peremptorily ordered him out of the study and subsequently complained
to me about the infernal racket the fellow made with his typewriter.
Just as I was on the point of telling him to go to the devil, he
smilingly called my attention to a complete plan for the restoration
of the two great halls as he had worked it out on paper. He had also
written a personal letter, commanding the Munich firm to send their
most competent expert to Schloss Rothhoefen without delay, to go over
the plans with him. As I recall it, he merely referred to me as a rich
American who needed advice.
They cursed my servants, drank my wines, complained of the food, and
had everybody about the place doing errands for them. My butler and
footman threatened to leave if they were compelled to continue to serve
drinks until four in the morning; but were somewhat appeased when I
raised their wages. Britton surreptitiously thrashed the French valet,
and then had to serve Mr. Pless (to my despair) for two days while
Francois took his time recovering.
The motor boat was operated as a ferry after the third day, hustling
detectives, lawyers, messengers and newspaper correspondents back and
forth across the much be-sung Danube. Time and again I shivered in my
boots when these sly-faced detectives appeared and made their reports
behind closed doors. When would they strike the trail?
To my surprise the Hazzards and the Smiths were as much in the dark
as I concerning development in the great kidnapping case. The wily Mr.
Pless suddenly ceased delivering his confidences to outsiders. Evidently
he had been cautioned by those in charge of his affairs. He became as
uncommunicative as the Sphinx.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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