The Mysterious Mickey Finn by Elliot Paul

thoughts of the breakage record were swept from his mind. He began to yammer and clutch at his collar.
    â€˜Nothing much. Look at this,’ the detective said, holding out the Weiss cheque for $2,500.
    â€˜Where did you get it? How could I have been so careless?’ asked Delbos, reaching quickly for his pocket. To his astonishment and horror, he found his cheque was still there. He hauled it out, started waving it, and the sergeant grabbed his wrists.
    â€˜You don’t mean to say there are two of them?’ He snatched both cheques away and compared them. ‘Identical, or a clever forgery,’ he said. ‘Don’t lose a minute. Take me to this Gonzo.’
    â€˜He’s gone. He went away at a quarter to eight,’ Delbos said. ‘Sergeant ! What shall I do? The cheque I cashed was signed by Hugo Weiss, the multi-millionaire. M. Jansen is an old customer, besides, he owed me quite a bill.’
    Sergeant Frémont was visibly annoyed. ‘M. Delbos, I think I should tell you that there is kidnapping and probably murder involved in this case. This M. Gonzo is fiendishly clever but he couldn’t be in two places at once. Your neighbour at the Dôme, M. Chalgrin, has stated that he cashed a cheque for $2,500 at a quarter to eight and handed the money to this Gonzo, and that they drank six glasses of Calvados together. Now you tell me that Gonzo was here at a quarter to eight. A man doesn’t swallow six glasses of Calvados in as many seconds.’
    â€˜You don’t know M. Johnson,’ the concierge said.
    Delbos was too frightened to talk or to think. ‘Is the cheque good or not?’
    â€˜Our experts will decide whether or not it has been forged, and our legal advisers will look up precedents. I’ll have to take the cheque. . . . Bonnet !’ he said. ‘Go to the Rotonde and the Select and collect all cheques for $2,500 signed by Hugo Weiss.’
    The agent saluted and crossed the busy thoroughfare.
    â€˜Who are the intimates of this Gonzo? Do you know Mademoiselle Montana, or an American called Ivan, or an alleged taxi-driver named Lvov Kvek?’
    â€˜I know Kvek. He’s a former colonel in the recent army of the late Tsar, and he drives a Citroën cab. As for Mademoiselle Montana, is she a red-headed girl, rather thin. . . .’
    â€˜That’s the one. Do you know where she is?’
    â€˜She wasn’t with Jansen to-night. That’s strange. Usually she stays quite close to him, to keep him out of trouble.’
    â€˜What kind of company does Gonzo keep?’
    â€˜All kinds,’ said Delbos. ‘But his friend Mr Evans is a fine gentleman.’
    â€˜That must be Ivan. Where is he?’
    â€˜I haven’t seen any of them to-night. That’s strange.’
    â€˜What’s strange? They’ve made a big clean-up and a clean get-away. You and M. Chalgrin furnished them the money....’
    â€˜Don’t say that !’ said M. Delbos.
    â€˜Not only kidnapping and murder, but some new racket connected with the making and marketing of paintings. I found Gonzo’s studio filled with canvases he did not paint, each one signed by him. The last seen of Hugo Weiss, the American multi-millionaire, was when he left Gonzo’s place in the taxi driven by the confederate, Kvek. Mademoiselle Montana had fled two days previously. Other members of the gang.... By the way, was it one of your waiters who served the party in that studio this afternoon?’
    â€˜I think the waiter was from the Dôme,’ the concierge said.
    â€˜Why didn’t you say so before,’ Frémont said, and hurried back toward the Dôme again.
    Rug peddlers and sandwich men strolled through the swarms of merrymakers on the sidewalks, the street lamps showed yellow-green among the trees, and everywhere agents de police , singly, in pairs, or in squads, on foot, on bicycles, and in automobiles, were scouring the district for