“Capital, wasn’t it?” he replied. “But there is something else that Paris can learn from London, more in your way, sir. Often when I drop in to see the principal of one of their chief houses or the head of a Government department, we fall into an entertaining discussion of this or that subject that may be on the tapis. ‘Ah, monsieur,’ I say, after perhaps half-an-hour’s conversation, ‘it is very amiable of you and sometimes I regret our insular methods, but it is not thus that great businesses are formed. At home, if I call upon one of our princes of industry—a railway director, a merchant, or the head of one of our leading insurance companies—nothing will tempt him for a moment from the stern outline of the business in hand. You are too complaisant; the merest gossip takes advantage of you.’”
“That’s quite true,” admitted the General Manager, occupying the revolving chair at his desk and assuming a serious and very determined expression. “Slackers, I call them. Now, Mr Carlyle, where are we in this business?”
“I have your letter of yesterday. We should naturally like all the particulars you can give us.”
The Manager threw open a formidable-looking volume with an immense display of energy, sharply flattened some typewritten pages that had ventured to raise their heads, and lifted an impressive finger.
“We start here, the 27th of January. On that day Karsfeld, the Princess Street jeweller, y’know, who acted as our jewellery assessor, forwards a proposal of the Hon. Mrs Straithwaite to insure a pearl necklace against theft. Says that he has had an opportunity of examining it and passes it at five thousand pounds. That business goes through in the ordinary way; the premium is paid and the policy taken out.
“A couple of months later Karsfeld has a little unpleasantness with us and resigns. Resignation accepted. We have nothing against him, you understand. At the same time there is an impression among the directors that he has been perhaps a little too easy in his ways, a little too—let us say, expansive, in some of his valuations and too accommodating to his own clients in recommending to us business of a—well—speculative basis; business that we do not care about and which we now feel is foreign to our traditions as a firm. However”—the General Manager threw apart his stubby hands as though he would shatter any fabric of criminal intention that he might be supposed to be insidiously constructing—“that is the extent of our animadversion against Karsfeld. There are no irregularities and you may take it from me that the man is all right.”
“You would propose accepting the fact that a five-thousand-pound necklace was submitted to him?” suggested Mr Carlyle.
“I should,” acquiesced the Manager, with a weighty nod. “Still—this brings us to April the third—this break, so to speak, occurring in our routine, it seemed a good opportunity for us to assure ourselves on one or two points. Mr Bellitzer—you know Bellitzer, of course; know of him, I should say—was appointed vice Karsfeld and we wrote to certain of our clients, asking them—as our policies entitled us to do—as a matter of form to allow Mr Bellitzer to confirm the assessment of his predecessor. Wrapped it up in silver paper, of course; said it would certify the present value and be a guarantee that would save them some formalities in case of ensuing claim, and so on. Among others, wrote to the Hon. Mrs Straithwaite to that effect—April fourth. Here is her reply of three days later. Sorry to disappoint us, but the necklace has just been sent to her bank for custody as she is on the point of leaving town. Also scarcely sees that it is necessary in her case as the insurance was only taken so recently.”
“That is dated April the seventh?” inquired Mr Carlyle, busy with pencil and pocket-book.
“April seventh,” repeated the Manager, noting this conscientiousness with an approving glance and then turning to regard questioningly the indifferent attitude of his other visitor. “That put us on our guard—naturally. Wrote by return regretting the necessity and suggesting that a line to her bankers, authorizing them to show us the necklace, would meet the case and save her any personal trouble. Interval of a week. Her reply, April sixteenth. Thursday last. Circumstances have altered her plans and she has returned to London sooner than she expected. Her jewel-case has been returned from the bank, and will we send our man round—‘our man,’ Mr Carlyle!—on Saturday morning not later than twelve, please.”