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“A what now?” Chase asked, also leaning in.

“A cat burglar!” the man loud-whispered, and darted a curious glance in my direction, as if to suggest that I had something to do with this crisis of the highest order, simply because I was a cat. I could have told him I don’t go in for the burglarious endeavor, but of course he wouldn’t have understood. Instead I merely stared at him in a wounded fashion, which went right over his head.

“Already three cases of nocturnal marauding have been reported, but so far we haven’t been able to apprehend the dastardly thief.”

“Three cases of burglary?” asked Odelia.

“In the last fortnight alone,” the manager confirmed, his face having taken on a sort of hangdog look. Even his modest mustache was drooping at the tips and his lips puckered in abject dismay. “We’ve involved the police each time, of course, but they don’t seem particularly interested in taking the case firmly in hand. I even suggested they put a man at the hotel, undercover so to speak, to keep an eye on things, but they fob me off each time with the feeble excuse of being understaffed.” He scoffed a little. “As if the safety and wellbeing of our guests, not to mention the reputational damage to this great institution, is not a priority.”

“What was stolen, exactly?” asked Chase, always quick to cut to the chase.

“Jewels, diamonds, necklaces, money… Anything of value. And it seems the thief knows exactly where and when to strike, so we’re thinking it must be someone with an insider’s knowledge of the hotel and its guests.”

“A member of your staff, you think?” asked Odelia.

The man bridled a little.“Absolutely not. I vouch for my people! This must be a professional thief. An expert. A crack burglar! The first victim was the Comtesse de Vichy, one of our oldest and most loyal customers. She had her entire collection of gems stolen from her room safe. A collection worth several thousands of Euros. Then the next night the Duke of Albany was hit. He’d just acquired a necklace for his wife, the Duchess, to take home with him for her birthday. A great tragedy, of course, both financially and emotionally. And then just three nights ago Lady Vanity was burgled. She is of course a French national treasure—legend of the silver screen. Her collection of diamond rings was stolen while she was asleep in her bed, if you please.” He shook his head mournfully. “If this doesn’t stop, it will be our ruin. We’ve been able to keep the story out of the papers, with the participation of the victims and the police, but sooner or later the press will get wind of the story, and we will be inside shit’s creek all the way!”

Odelia and Chase suppressed a snort of surprise at this creative use of the well-known expression from the lips of this distinguished-looking hotel manager.

“So please you will keep an eye out for me, yes?” the manager now implored, getting down to brass tacks. “The owners of the hotel, the descendants of Fritz Parlton, have agreed to offer a reward of ten thousand Euros for any information that will lead to the man’s capture. Anything to get rid of this dreadful pestilence.”

“We’ll keep an eye out,” Odelia assured the man.

“You called him a cat burglar,” said Chase. “You mean he scales the walls and crawls across the roof of the hotel to get to his target?”

“It is the only explanation,” said the manager, spreading his arms in a gesture of resignation. “We have posted members of staff in the corridors at night—discreetly, of course, so as not to alarm the guests. And we have hired extra security people to patrolle p?rim?tre. But even on the nights he was active, they reported nothing.Rien! And the police have confirmed that he got in through the window each time, even though the three rooms that were burgled respectively are located three, five and eight stories up, with no fire escape anywhere nearby.”

“So an actual cat burglar, huh?” said Odelia, and already I could tell that her detective’s blood was up. “I never met a cat burglar before, I have to say.”

“What’s a cat burglar, Max?” asked Dooley from the pet carrier next to mine.

“It’s a burglar who manages to crawl across roofs and scale walls and jump from ledge to ledge like a cat to reach his target,” I explained. “Usually they’re also dressed in black to avoid detection, and they preferably operate at night.”

“So a black cat burglar?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I said.

“Phew,” he said. “I thought that manager was going to think I did it. The way he was looking at me just now.”

“He can’t possibly think we’re involved, Dooley,” I said. “We’ve only just arrived. And besides, cats don’t steal jewels. At the most we’d steal the odd fish or sausage, but not necklaces or rings and such.”

“No, you can’t eat a ring or a necklace,” my friend agreed.