never get any truths or anything worth while, with bribery.

I had to find out local intrigues and gossips, who was in Monte Carlo
and what was doing, who were the leading demi-mondaines and gamblers?
Were there any possible Secret Service men? Hence the courier, a
Swiss from Ober Arau, a district of Switzerland, I luckily knew well.
When he knocked at the door, I cheerily bade him come in. I made my
manner as good natured as possible. I offered him a real Medijeh
cigarette. As befitting his station, he was slipping the cigarette in
his pocket.

"Oh, no!" I said. "Light it, won't you? Have a little smoke with me
here. I'm a bit lonesome. I want to get my bearings. Won't you join
me in a glass of wine?"

That was my first oar in. After some commonplace conversation, as to
how the season was, I asked:

"Anybody of interest here?"

I winked knowingly. Possibly it pleased the courier to have someone
to chuckle over a secret. All my oars were in.

"At the Grand Hotel de Londres," he said slyly, "there is a gentleman
who does not fool me."

I offered him another cigarette, helped him to another glass of wine.

"He is registered there as Count Techlow, but he can't fool me. He is
the Prince Galitzin."