“You may assume that I have read the newspapers,” replied the father. “Kindly tell me what the police wanted with Lanny.”
“This labor man of course would like to have American support for a policy more liberal and humane. He brought me a bundle of leaflets presenting the arguments of the French workers, and asked if it wouldn't be possible for my nephew at the Crillon to get these into the hands of Colonel House, so that he might know how the workers felt. I said: 'My nephew has broken with the Crillon, because he doesn't approve its policies.' The answer was: 'Well, he may be in touch with some of the staff there and might be able to get the documents to Colonel House.' So I said: 'All right, I'll take them to him and ask him to try.' I took them, and advised Lanny not to read them himself, but to get them to the right person if he had a chance.”
Lanny sat rigid in his seat, his mind torn between dismay and admiration. Oh, what a beautiful story! It brought him to realize how ill equipped he was for the career of an intriguer, a secret agent; all those hours he had spent in the silence of his cell — and never once had he thought of that absolutely perfect story!
“My friend told me how many of these leaflets had been printed and distributed in Paris, and I jotted down the figures on each one, thinking it might help to impress Colonel House. It appears the Préfecture found those figures highly suspicious.”
“Tell me how it happened,” persisted Robbie.
“When I left the hotel I got a glimpse of a man strolling past the window and looking into the lobby. He happened to be one of the flics who had picked me up several months back. I saw him enter the hotel, and I looked through the window and saw him and another man go into the elevator with Lanny. I waited until they came down and put him into a taxi. Then I set out to find you. I was afraid to go into the hotel, so I used the telephone. When I failed to find you, I sent you a note by messenger, and also a telegram, and then I decided to go to the Préfecture and try my luck. It was a risk, of course, because Lanny might have talked, and I couldn't know what he had said.”
“You might have guessed that he would have told the truth,” said the father.
“I wasn't that clever. What I did was to fish around, until they told me Lanny had confessed that he was a Red — ”
“What?” cried Lanny, shocked.
“The commissaire said that himself; so I knew they were bluffing and that Lanny hadn't talked. I told them my story and they held me a couple of hours while they 'investigated.' What they did, I assume, was to phone to Colonel House. Of course they consider that most everybody in the Crillon is a Red, but they can't afford any publicity about it. That's why they turned us loose with a warning.”