Chapter 48“AH. WELCOME BACK, Monsieur Richemartel,” said the maître d'. “Would you like your usual table?”
“I would prefer a quiet corner, perhaps in the rear today.”
Pointing in the doorway, the tuxedoed guide said, “How about one of those?”
“That would be fine, Paul. Thank you. A dry martini will do nicely. Then, no further disturbance, s'il vous plait.”
His patrician arrogance posed no difficulty for the equally haughty defender of the best that money could buy. “Of course, monsieur.” A fifty dollar bill went in his pocket. He enjoyed this guest who always appreciated service. Paul escorted his patron to the dim rear. Pictures adorned the walls, writers and artists reputed to have been regulars in the years after the First World War. No one could prove otherwise. The Nazis had ended
