Now, these people among whom I live are proud of their phrase, 'The
Englishman's house is his castle,' and into that castle even a
policeman cannot penetrate without a legal warrant. This may be all
very well in theory, but if you are compelled to march up to a man's
house, blowing a trumpet, and rattling a snare drum, you need not be
disappointed if you fail to find what you are in search of when all
the legal restrictions are complied with. Of course, the English are a
very excellent people, a fact to which I am always proud to bear
testimony, but it must be admitted that for cold common sense the
French are very much their superiors. In Paris, if I wish to obtain an
incriminating document, I do not send the possessor a _carte postale_
to inform him of my desire, and in this procedure the French people
sanely acquiesce. I have known men who, when they go out to spend an
evening on the boulevards, toss their bunch of keys to the concierge,
saying,--
'If you hear the police rummaging about while I'm away, pray assist
them, with an expression of my distinguished consideration.'
I remember while I was chief detective in the service of the French
Government being requested to call at a certain hour at the private
hotel of the Minister for Foreign Affairs.
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