The Triumphs of Eugène Valmont — Edition Insights
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were no less than sixteen clients all told, whom we learned were to attend personally on the day of the sale, any one of whom might well have made the purchase. The Marquis of Warlingham and Lord Oxtead from England were well-known jewel fanciers, while at least half a dozen millionaires were expected from the United States, with a smattering from Germany, Austria, and Russia, and one each from Italy, Belgium, and Holland.
Admission to the auction rooms was allowed by ticket only, to be applied for at least a week in advance, applications to be accompanied by satisfactory testimonials. It would possibly have surprised many of the rich men collected there to know that they sat cheek by jowl with some of the most noted thieves of England and America, but I allowed this for two reasons: first, I wished to keep these sharpers under my own eye until I knew who had bought the necklace; and, secondly, I was desirous that they should not know they were suspected.
I stationed trusty men outside on the Boulevard des Italiens, each of whom knew by sight most of the probable purchasers of the necklace. It was arranged that when the sale was over I should walk out to the boulevard alongside the man who was the new owner of the diamonds, and from that moment until he quitted France my men were not to lose sight of him if he took personal custody of the stones, instead of doing the sensible and proper thing of having them insured and forwarded to his residence by some responsible transit company, or depositing them in the bank. In fact, I took every precaution that occurred to me. All police Paris was on the _qui vive_, and felt itself pitted against the scoundrelism of the world.
For one reason or another it was nearly half-past two before the sale began. There had been considerable delay because of forged tickets, and, indeed, each order for admittance was so closely scrutinised that this in itself took a good deal more time than we anticipated. Every chair was occupied, and still a number of the visitors were compelled to stand. I stationed myself by the swinging doors at the entrance end of the hall, where I could command a view of the entire assemblage. Some of my men were placed with backs against the wall, whilst others were distributed amongst the chairs, all in plain clothes. During the sale the diamonds themselves were not displayed, but the box containing them rested in front of the auctioneer and three policemen in uniform stood guard on either side.
Very quietly the auctioneer began by saying that there was no need for him to expatiate on the notable character of the treasure he was privileged to offer for sale, and with this preliminary, he requested those present to bid. Someone offered twenty thousand francs, which was received with much laughter; then the bidding went steadily on until it reached nine hundred thousand francs, which I knew to be less than half the reserve the Government had placed upon the necklace. The contest advanced more slowly until the million and a half was touched, and there it hung fire for a time, while the auctioneer remarked that this sum did not equal that which the maker of the necklace had been finally forced to accept for it. After another pause he added that, as the reserve was not exceeded, the necklace would be withdrawn, and probably never again offered for sale. He therefore urged those who were holding back to make their bids now. At this the contest livened until the sum of two million three hundred thousand francs had been offered, and now I knew the necklace would be sold. Nearing the three million mark the competition thinned down to a few dealers from Hamburg and the Marquis of Warlingham, from England, when a voice that had not yet been heard in the auction room was lifted in a tone of some impatience:--
'One million dollars!'
There was an instant hush, followed by the scribbling of pencils, as each person present reduced the sum to its equivalent in his own currency--pounds for the English, francs for the French, marks for the German, and so on. The aggressive tone and the clear-cut face of the bidder proclaimed him an American, not less than the financial denomination he had used. In a moment it was realised that his bid was a clear leap of more than two million francs, and a sigh went up from the audience as if this settled it, and the great sale was done. Nevertheless the auctioneer's hammer hovered over the lid of his desk, and he looked up and down the long line of faces turned towards him. He seemed reluctant to tap the board, but no one ventured to compete against this tremendous sum, and with a sharp click the mallet fell.
'What name?' he asked, bending over towards the customer.
'Cash,' replied the American; 'here's a cheque for the amount. I'll take the diamonds with me.'
'Your request is somewhat unusual,' protested the auctioneer mildly.
'I know what you mean,' interrupted the American; 'you think the cheque may not be cashed. You will notice it is drawn on the Crédit-Lyonnais, which is practically next door. I must have the jewels with me. Send round your messenger with the cheque; it will take only a few minutes to find out whether or not the money is there to meet it. The necklace is mine, and I insist on having it.'
The auctioneer with some demur handed the cheque to the representative of the French Government who was present, and this official himself went to the bank. There were some other things to be sold and the auctioneer endeavoured to go on through the list, but no one paid the slightest attention to him.
Meanwhile I was studying the countenance of the man who had made the astounding bid, when I should instead have adjusted my preparations to meet the new conditions now confronting me. Here was a man about whom we knew nothing whatever. I had come to the instant conclusion that he was a prince of criminals, and that a sinister design, not at that moment fathomed by me, was on foot to get possession of the jewels. The handing up of the cheque was clearly a trick of some sort, and I fully expected the official to return and say the draft was good. I determined to prevent this man from getting the jewel box until I knew more of his game. Quickly I removed from my place near the door to the auctioneer's desk, having two objects in view; first, to warn the auctioneer not to part with the treasure too easily; and, second, to study the suspected man at closer range. Of all evil-doers the American is most to be feared; he uses more ingenuity in the planning of his projects, and will take greater risks in carrying them out than any other malefactor on earth.
From my new station I saw there were two men to deal with. The bidder's face was keen and intellectual; his hands refined, lady-like, clean and white, showing they were long divorced from manual labour, if indeed they had ever done any useful work. Coolness and imperturbability were his beyond a doubt. The companion who sat at his right was of an entirely different stamp. His hands were hairy and sun-tanned; his face bore the stamp of grim determination and unflinching bravery. I knew that these two types usually hunted in couples--the one to scheme, the other to execute, and they always formed a combination dangerous to encounter and difficult to circumvent.
There was a buzz of conversation up and down the hall as these two men talked together in low tones. I knew now that I was face to face with the most hazardous problem of my life.
I whispered to the auctioneer, who bent his head to listen. He knew very well who I was, of course.
'You must not give up the necklace,' I began.
He shrugged his shoulders.
'I am under the orders of the official from the Ministry of the Interior. You must speak to him.'
'I shall not fail to do so,' I replied. 'Nevertheless, do not give up the box too readily.'
'I am helpless,' he protested with another shrug. 'I obey the orders of the Government.'
Seeing it was useless to parley further with the auctioneer, I set my wits to work to meet the new emergency. I felt convinced that the cheque would prove to be genuine, and that the fraud, wherever it lay, might not be disclosed in time to aid the authorities. My duty, therefore, was to make sure we lost sight neither of the buyer nor the thing bought. Of course I could not arrest the purchaser merely on suspicion; besides, it would make the Government the laughing-stock of the world if they sold a case of jewels and immediately placed the buyer in custody when they themselves had handed over his goods to him. Ridicule kills in France. A breath of laughter may blow a Government out of existence in Paris much more effectually than will a whiff of cannon smoke. My duty then was to give the Government full warning, and never lose sight of my man until he was clear of France; then my responsibility ended.
I took aside one of my own men in plain clothes and said to him,--
'You have seen the American who has bought the necklace?'
'Very well. Go outside quietly, and station yourself there. He is likely to emerge presently with the jewels in his possession. You are not to lose sight of either the man or the casket. I shall follow him and be close behind him as he emerges, and you are to shadow us. If he parts with the case you must be ready at a sign from me to follow either the man or the jewels. Do you understand?' 'Yes, sir,' he answered, and left the room.
It is ever the unforeseen that baffles us; it is easy to be wise after the event. I should have sent two men, and I have often thought since how admirable is the regulation of the Italian Government which sends out its policemen in pairs. Or I should have given my man power to call for help, but even as it was he did only half as well as I had a right to expect of him, and the blunder he committed by a moment's dull-witted hesitation--ah, well! there is no use of scolding. After all the result might have been the same.
Just as my man disappeared between the two folding doors the official from the Ministry of the Interior entered. I intercepted him about half-way on his journey from the door to the auctioneer.
'Possibly the cheque appears to be genuine,' I whispered to him.
'But certainly,' he replied pompously. He was an individual greatly impressed with his own importance; a kind of character with which it is always difficult to deal. Afterwards the Government asserted that this official had warned me, and the utterances of an empty-headed ass dressed in a little brief authority, as the English poet says, were looked upon as the epitome of wisdom.
'I advise you strongly not to hand over the necklace as has been requested,' I went on.
'Because I am convinced the bidder is a criminal.'
'If you have proof of that, arrest him.'
'I have no proof at the present moment, but I request you to delay the delivery of the goods.'
'That is absurd,' he cried impatiently. 'The necklace is his, not ours. The money has already been transferred to the account of the Government; we cannot retain the five million francs, and refuse to hand over to him what he has bought with them,' and so the man left me standing there, nonplussed and anxious. The eyes of everyone in the room had been turned on us during our brief conversation, and now the official proceeded ostentatiously up the room with a grand air of importance; then, with a bow and a flourish of the hand, he said, dramatically,--
'The jewels belong to Monsieur.'
The two Americans rose simultaneously, the taller holding out his hand while the auctioneer passed to him the case he had apparently paid so highly for. The American nonchalantly opened the box and for the first time the electric radiance of the jewels burst upon that audience, each member of which craned his neck to behold it. It seemed to me a most reckless thing to do. He examined the jewels minutely for a few moments, then snapped the lid shut again, and calmly put the box in his outside pocket, and I could not help noticing that the light overcoat he wore possessed pockets made extraordinarily large, as if on purpose for this very case. And now this amazing man walked serenely down the room past miscreants who joyfully would have cut his throat for even the smallest diamond in that conglomeration; yet he did not take the trouble to put his hand on the pocket which contained the case, or in any way attempt to protect it. The assemblage seemed stricken dumb by his audacity. His friend followed closely at his heels, and the tall man disappeared through the folding doors. Not so the other. He turned quickly, and whipped two revolvers out of his pockets, which he presented at the astonished crowd. There had been a movement on the part of every one to leave the room, but the sight of these deadly weapons confronting them made each one shrink into his place again.
The man with his back to the door spoke in a loud and domineering voice, asking the auctioneer to translate what he had to say into French and German; he spoke in English.
'These here shiners are valuable; they belong to my friend who has just gone out. Casting no reflections on the generality of people in this room, there are, nevertheless, half a dozen "crooks" among us whom my friend wishes to avoid. Now, no honest man here will object to giving the buyer of that there trinket five clear minutes in which to get away. It's only the "crooks" that can kick. I ask these five minutes as a favour, but if they are not granted I am going to take them as a right. Any man who moves will get shot.'
'I am an honest man,' I cried, 'and I object. I am chief detective of the French Government. Stand aside; the police will protect your friend.'
'Hold on, my son,' warned the American, turning one weapon directly upon me, while the other held a sort of roving commission, pointing all over the room. 'My friend is from New York and he distrusts the police as much as he does the grafters. You may be twenty detectives, but if you move before that clock strikes three, I'll bring you down, and don't you forget it.'
It is one thing to face death in a fierce struggle, but quite another to advance coldly upon it toward the muzzle of a pistol held so steadily that there could be no chance of escape. The gleam of determination in the man's eyes convinced me he meant what he said. I did not consider then, nor have I considered since, that the next five minutes, precious as they were, would be worth paying my life for. Apparently everyone else was of my opinion, for none moved hand or foot until the clock slowly struck three.
'Thank you, gentlemen,' said the American, as he vanished between the spring-doors. When I say vanished, I mean that word and no other, because my men outside saw nothing of this individual then or later. He vanished as if he had never existed, and it was some hours before we found how this had been accomplished.
I rushed out almost on his heels, as one might say, and hurriedly questioned my waiting men. They had all seen the tall American come out with the greatest leisure and stroll towards the west. As he was not the man any of them were looking for they paid no further attention to him, as, indeed, is the custom with our Parisian force. They have eyes for nothing but what they are sent to look for, and this trait has its drawbacks for their superiors.
I ran up the boulevard, my whole thought intent on the diamonds and their owner. I knew my subordinate in command of the men inside the hall would look after the scoundrel with the pistols. A short distance up I found the stupid fellow I had sent out, standing in a dazed manner at the corner of the Rue Michodière, gazing alternately down that short street and towards the Place de l'Opéra. The very fact that he was there furnished proof that he had failed.
'Where is the American?' I demanded.
'He went down this street, sir.'
'Then why are you standing here like a fool?'
'I followed him this far, when a man came up the Rue Michodière, and without a word the American handed him the jewel-box, turning instantly down the street up which the other had come. The other jumped into a cab, and drove towards the Place de l'Opéra.'
'And what did you do? Stood here like a post, I suppose?'
'I didn't know what to do, sir. It all happened in a moment.'
'Why didn't you follow the cab?'
'I didn't know which to follow, sir, and the cab was gone instantly while I watched the American.'
'What was its number?'
'You clod! Why didn't you call one of our men, whoever was nearest, and leave him to shadow the American while you followed the cab?'
'I did shout to the nearest man, sir, but he said you told him to stay there and watch the English lord, and even before he had spoken both American and cabman were out of sight.'
'Was the man to whom he gave the box an American also?'
'No, sir, he was French.'
'By his appearance and the words he spoke.'
'I thought you said he didn't speak.'
'He did not speak to the American, sir, but he said to the cabman, "Drive to the Madeleine as quickly as you can."'
'He was a head shorter than the American, wore a black beard and moustache rather neatly trimmed, and seemed to be a superior sort of artisan.'
'You did not take the number of the cab. Should you know the cabman if you saw him again?'
'Yes, sir, I think so.'
Taking this fellow with me I returned to the now nearly empty auction room and there gathered all my men about me. Each in his notebook took down particulars of the cabman and his passenger from the lips of my incompetent spy; next I dictated a full description of the two Americans, then scattered my men to the various railway stations of the lines leading out of Paris, with orders to make inquiries of the police on duty there, and to arrest one or more of the four persons described should they be so fortunate as to find any of them.
I now learned how the rogue with the pistols vanished so completely as he did. My subordinate in the auction room had speedily solved the mystery. To the left of the main entrance of the auction room was a door that gave private access to the rear of the premises. As the attendant in charge confessed when questioned, he had been bribed by the American earlier in the day to leave this side door open and to allow the man to escape by the goods entrance. Thus the ruffian did not appear on the boulevard at all, and so had not been observed by any of my men.
Eugène Valmont introduces himself as a private detective in London, but immediately signals his past: for seven years he was chief detective to the Government of France, dismissed but holding no grievance. This opening establishes a narrator who is both candid and cagey, promising to correct false rumours while plunging into a case that riveted the world in 1893. The first story, 'The Mystery of the Five Hundred Diamonds,' begins with the discovery of Marie Antoinette's necklace in the Château de Chaumont, a treasure that sets the stage for Valmont's investigative methods.
Valmont's voice is precise, slightly formal, and self-aware. He addresses the reader directly, offering a contrast between French and English police work. The excerpts show him questioning a butler named Podgers with relentless detail—timing of arrivals, keys, routines—revealing a methodical approach that will define the collection.
Valmont's Narrative Voice and Self-Presentation
From the first paragraph, Valmont shapes how the reader perceives him. He admits his dismissal but insists he holds no grievance, then immediately publishes his account to counter false rumours. This paradoxical stance—professing impartiality while defending his reputation—creates a narrator who is both reliable and strategic. His tone is urbane, occasionally wry, as when he notes that his intimate knowledge of France brings him many London cases. The excerpts show him addressing the reader directly ('When I say I am called Valmont'), a technique that builds intimacy while allowing him to control information. Readers should watch how Valmont's self-characterisation evolves across stories, especially when he contrasts his methods with those of Scotland Yard.
The Interrogation as a Window into Method
The extended dialogue with Podgers, the butler, is the most detailed excerpt of Valmont's investigative technique. He asks about the clerk's arrival time, keys, safe type, and daily movements, then presses for anything unusual. Podgers's answers are halting; Valmont's questions are precise, often building on previous answers. Notably, Valmont asks about the master's temperament—'silent, talkative, angry, furtive, suspicious, anxious, terrorised, calm, excitable'—showing his interest in psychology. He also probes the household's physical layout: four stories, narrow house, basement. The scene reveals Valmont's belief that small details—how keys are carried, whether the clerk dines with the master—can unlock a case. Readers can track how this method pays off in later stories.
Contrasts Between French and English Policing
Valmont repeatedly positions himself between two worlds. He tells Hale, the Scotland Yard inspector, that English detectives 'depend less on artificial assistance than we do in France,' a compliment that also asserts his own adaptability. Earlier, he notes that his Parisian reputation means nothing in London. The excerpts show him working alongside Hale, who defers to Valmont's experience while maintaining English pride. This cultural tension recurs: Valmont's French background gives him access to continental cases, but he must navigate English assumptions. The stories likely exploit this contrast, with Valmont using French logic to solve English crimes. Readers should note how Valmont's nationality is both a tool and a source of friction.
The Structure of the Collection and Parodic Elements
The table of contents lists eight stories plus an appendix of two Sherlock Holmes parodies: 'The Adventures of Sherlaw Kombs' and 'The Adventure of the Second Swag.' This placement signals that Barr is aware of the detective genre's conventions and willing to mock them. The first story's title—'The Mystery of the Five Hundred Diamonds'—promises a grand puzzle, but Valmont's opening is deliberately understated. The parodies at the end suggest a playful relationship with Conan Doyle's work. Readers approaching the collection should consider how Barr balances genuine detection with humour. The excerpts do not reveal whether Valmont is a comic figure or a serious detective, but his self-deprecating tone and the parodies hint at a satirical edge.
These excerpts offer a focused entry into Valmont's world: a detective who narrates his own triumphs with a blend of pride and irony. The opening story establishes his voice and method, while the interrogation scene demonstrates his attention to routine. Readers will benefit from noting how Valmont's French perspective shapes his observations, and how the parodies at the end reframe the earlier stories. The collection rewards attention to small details—keys, schedules, household layouts—that Valmont himself considers crucial.
There’s something tender about Valmont losing his Paris post and rebuilding in London—that quiet ache of starting over. It reminded me of another classic’s quiet center, where domestic life holds its own mysteries. Mrs. Fitz — Inside the Classic lingers the same way, less about spectacle than the folds of ordinary days. Some stories simply wait for us to come back to them.
Noah Clark
3 weeks ago-
Erik Baker - 1 month ago
A masterful collection of detective stories featuring the cunning Eugene Valmont. Each tale is cleverly plotted with surprising twists that keep you on your toes. The writing is sharp and witty, and Valmont's French perspective adds a refreshing touch. A must-read for mystery lovers. -
Cheyenne Brown - 2 weeks ago
This collection didn't impress me. The mysteries are thin and the solutions are often obvious. Valmont is portrayed as smug and condescending, which made it hard to root for him. The writing is dated and the humor falls flat. A disappointing read that I couldn't finish. -
Paul Harrington - 1 week ago
The stories are enjoyable and showcase the author's skill at crafting mysteries. Valmont is a entertaining protagonist, though sometimes his arrogance is off-putting. The plots are inventive, but the pacing varies, and some solutions feel contrived. Still, a solid read for classic mystery fans.
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Noah Young
3 weeks ago