Paradis Retrouv, dition complte, I whispered, and was rewarded with a kiss.
Alone, as he thought, with his lifeless victim, the murderer sneered, H'ya keeping? said he coarsely, as he approached the trunk.
He lifted the lid a little, and thrust his head within. A rim ran round inside: while yet he blinked, we seized it, and brought the lid down with a crash.
La guillotine? I said cuttingly.
La Defarge! observed my adored one, knitting her brows.
Vive la France!
We stepped out; we put him inside. I retained his clothes. With a sheet from the bed, the bell rope, and a strip of carpet from before the washstand, she made a fetching Arab lass. Together we slipped out into the street.
Night! Youth! Paris! And the moon!
THE STEEL CAT
The Hotel Bixbee is as commercial an hotel as any in Chicago. The brass-rail surmounts the banisters; the cuspidor gleams dimly in the shade of the potted palm. The air in the corridors is very still, and appears to have been de-odorized a few days ago. The rates are moderate.
Walter Davies' cab drew up outside the Bixbee. He was a man with a good deal of grey in his hair, and with a certain care-worn brightness on his face, such as is often to be seen on the faces of rural preachers, if they are poor enough and hopeful enough. Davies, however, was not a preacher. The porter seized his suitcase, and would have taken the black box he held on his knees, but Davies nervously put out his hand. No, he said. Leave this one to me. He entered the hotel carrying the box as if it were a baby. It was an oblong box, nearly two feet long, and perhaps a foot wide and a foot in depth. It was covered with a high-grade near-leather. It had a handle on the top side, but Davies preferred to cradle it in his arms rather than to swing it by this handle.
As soon as he had checked in and was shown to his room, he set the box on the bureau and made straight for the telephone. He called Room Service. This is Room 517, said he. What sort of cheese have you?
Well, we got Camembert, Swiss, Tillamook
Now, the Tillamook, said Davies. Is that good and red-looking?
Guess so, said the man at the other end. It's like it usually is.
All right, send me up a portion.
What bread with it? Roll? White? Rye?
No bread. Just the cheese by itself.
Okay. It'11 be right up.
In a minute or two a bell-hop entered, carrying a platter with the wedge of cheese on it. He was a coloured man of about the same age as Davies, and had a remarkably round face and bullet head. Is that right, sir? You wanted just a piece of cheese?
That's right, said Davies, who was undoing the clasps of his black box. Put it right there on the table.
The bell-hop, waiting for him to sign the check, watched Davies fold down the front side of the box, which carried part of the top with it. Thus opened, it displayed an interior lined with black velvet, against which gleamed an odd-looking skeletal arrangement in chromium-plated metal. Now look at that! said the bell-hop, much intrigued. Wouldn't be surprised if that ain't an invention you got there.
Interesting, eh? said Davies. Catches the eye?
Sure does, said the bell-hop. There ain't nothing much more interesting than an invention. He peered reverently at the odd-looking apparatus in the box. Now what sort of invention would you say that might be?
That, said Davies proudly, is the Steel Cat.
Steel Cat? cried the bell-hop. No kidding?
He shook his head, a plain man baffled by the wonders of science. So that's the Steel Cat! Well now, what do you know?
Good name, you think? asked Davies.
Boy, that's a title! replied the bell-hop. Mister, how come I ain't never heard of this here Steel Cat?
That's the only one in the world, said Davies. So far.
I come from Ohio, said the bell-hop. And I got folks in Ohio. And they're going to hear from me how I got to see this one and only Steel Cat.
Glad you like it, said Davies. Wait a minute. Fond of animals? I'll show you something.
As he spoke, he opened a small compartment that was built into one end of the box. Inside was a round nest of toilet tissues. Davies put his fingers against his nest. Come on, Georgie, he said. Peep! Peep! Come on, Georgie!
A small, ordinary mouse, fat as a butter-ball, thrust his quick head out of the nest, turned his berry-black eyes in all directions, and ran along Davies' finger, and up his sleeve to his collar, where he craned up to touch his nose to the lobe of Davies' ear.
Well, sir! cried the bell-hop in delight. If that ain't a proper tame, friendly mouse you got there!
He knows me, said Davies. In fact, this mouse knows pretty near everything.
I betcha! said the bell-hop with conviction.
He's what you might call a demonstration mouse, said Davies. He shows off the Steel Cat. See the idea? You hang the bait on this hook. Mr. Mouse marches up this strip in the middle. He reaches for the bait. His weight tips the beam, and he drops into this jar. Of course, I fill it with water.
And that's his name Georgie? asked the bell-hop, his eyes still on the mouse.
That's what I call him, said Davies.
You know what? said the bell-hop thoughtfully. If I had that mouse, mister, I reckon I'd call him Simpson.
D'you know how I came to meet up with this mouse? said Davies. I was in Poughkeepsie that's where I come from and one night last winter I ran my bath, and somehow I sat on, reading the paper, and forgot all about it. And I felt something sort of urging me to go into the bathroom. So I went in, and there was the bath I'd forgotten all about. And there was Master Georgie in it, just about going down for the third time.
Hey! Hey! cried the bell-hop in urgent distress. No third time for President Simpson!
Oh, no! said Davies. Life-guard to the rescue! I picked him out, dried him, and I put him in a box.
Can you beat that? cried the bell-hop. Say, would it be all right for me to give him just a little bit of the cheese?
No. That's just demonstration cheese, said Davies. Mice aren't so fond of cheese as most people think. He has his proper meal after the show. A balanced diet. Well, as I was saying, in a couple of days he was just as friendly as could be.
Sure thing, said the bell-hop. He knows who saved him.
You know, a thing like that, said Davies, it starts a fellow thinking. And what I thought of I thought of the Steel Cat.
You thought of that cat from seeing that mouse in that bath? cried the bell-hop, overwhelmed by the processes of the scientific mind.
I did, said Davies. I owe it all to Georgie. Drew it up on paper. Borrowed some money. Got a blue-print made; then this model here. And now we're going around together, demonstrating. Cleveland, Akron, Toledo everywhere. Nowhere.
Just about sweeping the country, said the bell-hop. That's a real good-luck mouse, that is. He certainly ought to be called Simpson.
Well, I'll tell you, said Davies. It needs one really big concern to give the others a lead. Otherwise, they hang back. That's why we're in Chicago. Do you know who's coming here this afternoon? Mr. Hartpick of Lee and Waldron. They don't only manufacture; they own the outlets. Six hundred and fifty stores, all over the country! No middle-man, if you see what I mean. If they push it, oh, boy!
Oh, boy! echoed the bell-hop with enthusiasm.
He'll be here pretty soon, said Davies. Three o'clock. By appointment. And Georgie'll show him the works.