The old man grunted in his armchair and ordered the greasy-looking valet-de-chambre to inform the police, but to first go and search the dead man’s effects and ascertain if he had left any money.
“Monsieur Blanc was penniless, like myself,” Diamond said. “Neither of us had eaten all day yesterday.”
“No money to pay his bill!” croaked the old Frenchman, who looked more like a concierge than a hotel proprietor. “And you are also without money?” he asked glaring.
“I regret that such is the truth,” was Diamond’s answer with much politeness. “Has not m’sieur noticed in life that honest men are mostly poor? Thieves and rogues are usually in funds.”
“Then I must ask you to leave my hotel at once,” said the old man testily.
The Doctor grinned, and bowed.
“If that is m’sieur’s decision, I can do nothing else but obey,” was his polite answer.
“You will leave your luggage, of course.”
“M’sieur is quite welcome to all he finds,” was the Doctor’s response, and with another bow he turned and strode out.
His plan had worked admirably. He had no desire to remain there in the present circumstances. To be ordered out was certainly better than to flee.