"Moosseer Piggott!" he cried, and enveloped the Frenchman's slender hand in his great paw, and gave it a squeeze which was no doubt painful.
"Glad to see you, sir. Welcome to our city, as we say over here in America. I certainly hope you can speak English, for I don't know a word of your lingo. I'm Commissioner Grady, in charge of the detective bureau; and this is Simmonds, one of my men."
M. Pigot's perfect suavity was not even ruffled.
"I am most pleased to meet you, sir; and you Monsieur Simmòn," he said. "Yes—I speak English—though, as you see, with some difficulty."
"These reporters bothering your life out, I see," and Grady glanced about the group, scowling as his eyes met Godfrey's. "Now you boys might as well fade away. You won't get anything out of either of us to-night—eh, Moosseer Piggott?"
"I have but just told them that my first report must be made to you, sir," assented Pigot.
"Then let's go somewhere and have a drink," suggested Grady.
"I was hoping," said M. Pigot, gently, "that we might go ashore at once. I have my papers ready for you…."
"All right," agreed Grady. "And after I've looked over your papers, I'll show you Broadway, and I'll bet you agree with me that it beats anything in gay Paree. Our boat's waiting, and we can start right away. This your bag? Yes? Bring it along, Simmonds," and Grady started for the stair.
But the attentive steward got ahead of Simmonds.