Chapter 17

The manager, a Frenchman with an exquisitely suave manner, received him in his private office. “You wished to see me, I understand, Mr.—er—McGrath?” “I did. I arrived at your hotel yesterday afternoon, and I had dinner served to me in my own rooms by a waiter whose name was Giuseppe.” He paused. “I dare say we have a waiter of that name,” agreed the manager indifferently. “I was struck by something unusual in the waiter’s manner, but thought nothing more of it at the time. Later, in the night, I was awakened by the…