Near midnight, a person walked through the Place de la Concorde (the largest square in Paris, located on the right bank of the Seine, in the northwest of the city. Annotation).Although he wore an expensive fur coat, it was not difficult to give the impression that he was sickly and poor. The man had the face of a mouse.No one would have thought that such a frail man could have any part in life.But it is he who plays his part in one corner of the world. At this moment, a mission urged him to go home.But before heading home, he had one more deal to make.And that mission and this transaction are independent of each other.

He came to the banks of the Seine, crossed the bridge, and entered a notorious quarter of Paris.He stopped for a moment in front of an unguarded building, peeked left and right, and then went up the fourth floor.Before he could reach out to knock on the door, a woman opened it.The woman seemed to be waiting for the man's arrival.She helped him take off his coat and led him into the living room.The decor and furnishings of this living room are tacky.The light from the filthy shade shone on the woman's cheek.She had prominent cheekbones like a Mongolian, and she wore cheap jewelry on her head.The woman's name was Olga Dmirovna, and as to her profession one could no more doubt it than the character of her nation.

"Is everything done? Baby!" "It's all over, Boris Ivanovich." He nodded, lowered his voice and said, "I believe I am not following me." But there was timidity in his voice.He walked to the window, opened the curtains, looked downstairs, and suddenly turned around and said: "There are two people outside, on the sidewalk across the street. This could be..." He mused before he could finish the sentence, as he often did when he was frightened. The Russian woman, on the other hand, shook her head nonchalantly. "They were there before you came..."

"It appears that they are monitoring the building." "It's possible," she echoed. "If that's the case..." "I don't think they'll follow you unless they smell something." A silly, pained smile played on the man's mouth. "You're right," the man said. He thought about it for a good minute, then said in a slow, hateful tone, "This damn Yankee can really protect himself, better than anyone." "I believe in that." He went to the window again. "Braves!" He muttered and sneered, "I'm an old acquaintance in the police station, brother, I wish you success!"

Olga Dmirovna shook her head. "If the Yankee is what you say he is, he will not be a match for two villains." He said nothing. "I'm thinking……" "how?" "You know, there is a man who has been to this street twice tonight. It is a white-haired man." "What is he going to do?" "Nothing. When this man walked up to the other, it seemed that he dropped a glove on purpose, and one of them picked it up and handed it back to the white-haired man. It was a farce." "Do you think this white-haired man is the backstage for these two guys?"

"Kind of like." This time the Russian was a little surprised. "Do you really think so? Is the package still safe? No one has touched it? It's getting more and more complicated." He fell into deep thought again. "You have to have faith!" She stooped over the stove, moved the coals, and took a paper packet from it and handed it to him. "Smart!" he said with satisfaction. "The house has been searched twice and my sheets have been torn." "As I've said, we talk too much," he muttered. "It's a fatal mistake to think too much about price."

He tore off the outer layer of the package, which was still wrapped in a layer of paper.He opened the paper, glanced at the contents, and wrapped it tightly again.At this time, the electric bell rang suddenly. "The Yankees are here on time." Olga glanced at her watch.She went out of the room and presently brought in a stranger, tall, broad-shouldered, and recognizably American in appearance.The American glanced first at the woman, then at the man. "Are you Mr. Cresner?" asked the Yankee politely. "Exactly, exactly me," replied Boris. "Excuse me, the location of the meeting has changed. You know, the most important thing is: our transaction must not be exposed. I can't bring this kind of thing with me to the meeting."

"Ah, that's right." The American said politely. "You once told me that the deal was only between us, didn't you? That's one of the important conditions of the deal." The American nodded. "We agree on that," he said dryly. "Will you take out the goods now and let me have a look." "Have you got your money? Is it banknotes?" "Yes." The other party replied. But he did not mention whether he had the money with him.Cresner hesitated, and put the paper bag on the table. The American opens the paper package.He went to the light and took out the contents, looked at it carefully for a while, and seemed to be quite satisfied.He took a thick envelope from his pocket, took out a wad of banknotes, and handed them to the Russian, who counted them carefully.

"right?" "Thank you, exactly." "Okay, great!" said the American. The American put the packet in his pocket and bowed to Olga. "Good-bye, miss. Good-bye, Mr. Cresner." After saying goodbye, he left the room, and the door closed behind him.The remaining two people looked at each other for a while. The man licked his dry lips with his tongue and said, "I wonder if he will go back to the hotel where he stayed?" The two looked out the window at the same time.At that moment the American happened to be walking into the street.He glanced to the left, then stepped forward abruptly.Two people quietly followed him at the corner.Both the tracker and the tracked disappeared into the darkness of night.

Olga Dmirovna said: "He must have come home. You need not worry about him, and don't hope for him." "Why do you think he must be safe?" Cresner asked. "If a man has that much money, he's no fool," said Olga, "enough money..." She looked at Kresner meaningfully. "Ok?" "My share, Boris Ivanovich?" He reluctantly gave her two bills.She thanked him silently and stuffed the money into the stocking. He looked at Olga curiously. "Aren't you sorry, Olga Dmirovna?" "What is there to regret?" "You gave up such wonderful jewelry. I believe most women are crazy about it."

She nodded. "You're right. Many women have this crazy quality, but I don't. I just want to know one thing..." "What?" Cresne asked. "The American got the gem and he's safe. I'm sure of that. But what's next..." "What will happen next?" "He will definitely give the gem to a woman," Olga said, dreaming, "I thought, what would happen if it was given to a woman?" She went to the window again, shouted suddenly, and turned her head to her accomplice. "You see. The man walking by the side of the road is the man I was speaking of." A tall, thin, handsome man walked past calmly.He wore a round hat and a coat.Under the light of the street lamp, one can clearly see his long hair protruding from the round cap.