Detective and mystery stories; Hoodlums -- Fiction; London (England) -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Murder -- Fiction
“Whilst this absurd state of affairs prevails, it is advisable, it is
more than advisable, it is imperative, that all of us should be secret.
The... raid--unpleasant word!--upon the establishment in Paris--was so
unexpected that there was no time to advise patrons; but the admirable
tact of the French authorities ensured the suppression of all names.
Since--always as a protective measure--no business relationship exists
between any two of Mr. King's establishments (each one being entirely
self-governed) some difficulty is being experienced, I believe, in
obtaining the names of those who patronized Madame Jean. But I am doubly
glad to have met you, M. Gaston, for not only can I put you in touch
with the London establishment, but I can impress upon you the necessity
of preserving absolute silence”...
M. Gaston extended his palms eloquently.
“To me,” he declared, “the name of Mr. King is a sacred symbol.”
“It is to all of us!” responded the Greek, devoutly.
M. Gaston in turn became confidential, bending toward Gianapolis
so that, as the shadow of the Greek fell upon his face, his pupils
contracted catlike.
“How often have I prayed,” he whispered, “for a sight of that remarkable
man!”
A look of horror, real or simulated, appeared upon the countenance of
Gianapolis.
“To see--Mr. King!” he breathed. “My dear friend, I declare to you by
all that I hold sacred that I--though one of the earliest patrons of the
first establishment, that in Pekin--have never seen Mr. King!”
“He is so cautious and so clever as that?”
“Even as cautious and even as clever--yes! Though every branch of the
enterprise in the world were destroyed, no man would ever see Mr. King;
he would remain but a NAME!”
“You will arrange for me to visit the house of--Ho-Pin, did you
say?--immediately?”
“To-day, if you wish,” said Gianapolis, brightly.
“My funds,” continued M. Gaston, shrugging his shoulders, “are not
limitless at the moment; and until I receive a remittance from Paris”...
The brow of Mr. Gianapolis darkened slightly.
“Our clientele here,” he replied, “is a very wealthy one, and the fees
are slightly higher than in Paris. An entrance fee of fifty guineas is
charged, and an annual subscription of the same amount”...
“But,” exclaimed M. Gaston, “I shall not be in London for so long as
a year! In a week or a fortnight from now, I shall be on my way to
America!”
“You will receive an introduction to the New York representative,
and your membership will be available for any of the United States
establishments.”
“But I am going to South America.”
“At Buenos Aires is one of the largest branches.”
“But I am not going to Buenos Aires! I am going with a prospecting party
to Yucatan.”
“You must be well aware, monsieur, that to go to Yucatan is to exile
yourself from all that life holds for you.”
“I can take a supply”...
“You will die, monsieur! Already you suffer abominably”...
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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