Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 8, No. 11, November 1963

Private and Confidential by Diane Frazer

Honesty, especially in banking circles, is generally taken for granted, but in just such an environment suspicions multiply and their effect can be irretractable.

Henry Duvernois, president of the Merchants Bank, was standing at the window of his office, which overlooked the busy Boulevard Haussman. He was thinking morosely of the letter which that morning’s mail had brought to his desk for just one reason... to spoil what had promised to be a perfect day.

He looked again at the letter in his hand, read it over and sighed. It was very, very annoying, mainly because something had to be done about it, and right away, which meant that he wouldn’t be able to take his aperitif as usual at Fouquet’s.

The envelope in which the letter had arrived was marked, he noted wrathfully, PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL: FOR M. DUVERNOIS PERSONALLY, which, of course, was the reason that he was now personally bothered with this distressing matter. He went back to his desk and buzzed his secretary to come in.

Mlle. Arlette entered, the radiant morning smile firmly entrenched on her lovely face. “Yes, Monsieur,” she said throatily. “You want me, sir?”

He thought it over for a moment. If the occasion weren’t so earnest, demanding his undivided attention, he might have responded jovially and perhaps even equivocally. Henry Duvernois was a democratic man and Mlle. Arlette the prettiest secretary he had had in years. But this was no time for frivolities. “How did this get to my desk?” he asked, pointing with disgust to the envelope which lay there.

Mlle. Arlette came a step nearer to inspect the object in question at closer range. She uses Miss Dior, he thought automatically. I wonder how she can afford it. Probably takes it out of petty cash. You can t trust anyone any more.

Mlle. Arlette finished her inspection. “This, Monsieur?” she asked, modestly stepping back again. “Why, it came in the morning mail and as it was marked private and confidential I thought...”

“You are my private and confidential secretary,” he reminded her. “Are you not? Why do I have to be bothered with every detail?”

“But you told me only last week, Monsieur, that private letters addressed to you should not be opened by me,” she said, hurt. “I was merely following your instructions.”

She knew, of course, what kind of private letters he had meant. You could smell them a mile. The letter on M. Duvernois’ desk was obviously not one of ‘those’ letters. “Tell M. Bourdely to come in,” he ordered. “That is, if he has arrived by now. We are keeping strange working hours around here.”

“M. Bourdely is in his office,” she said stiffly. “I’ll tell him you wish to see him.”

“I would appreciate that very much indeed,” he said sarcastically and Mlle. Arlette left in a huff. Duvernois looked at his watch. Already eleven o’clock. He wouldn’t make it for aperitifs and it was such a beautiful day. The Champs Elysées at noon hour would be filled with pretty women.

“You wanted to see me?” Edmonde Bourdely, treasurer of the Merchants Bank, had come in, silently, as was his irritating habit.

“Yes, Edmonde, something extremely annoying has come up. Look at this.’’ He pushed the envelope over to Bourdely, who extracted the letter and began to read. “No signature,” he said, when he had finished. “Anonymous. I wouldn’t pay any attention to this kind of thing.”

“You wouldn’t, eh?” Duvernois said. “Just ignore the whole business. And let this man go on robbing us?”

“You don’t seriously think these accusations are true? Why, this letter is unsigned. Why didn’t whoever wrote it come out in the open if he is convinced that what he writes is true?”

“People down there are pretty careful,” Duvernois said. “They don’t want involvement if they can help. Why should they? For all we know the man he accuses of pilfering might be influential. The mayor might be his brother, or the sous-préfet his cousin. You never know. Or the writer is an employe of the bank and prefers to remain anonymous, not knowing what action we will take.”

“You really believe there’s some truth in this, sir?”

Duvernois shrugged. “Might be. Why would someone make such an accusation if it isn’t the truth?”

“You know this Lachetez, the so-called embezzler?”

“Vaguely. Nimes is a key post, in a way. Not one of our bigger branches but an important one. The wine and olive growers of the region are valued customers. The olive trees yield only every other year. They need credit and we gladly extend it. We do quite some business down there.”

“And this Lachetez?”

“Used to be chief cashier. He was made provisory manager when Deletraz died three years ago.”

“Three years ago. You mean he’s been acting as manager for three years and hasn’t been formally assigned this post?”

“There were circumstances.” Duvernois looked annoyed. “It’s really a plum; not too much work, not too much responsibility. Yet a fairly high-rated position. I’ve meant to send someone from Paris down there but I haven’t got around to it.”

“In the meantime this Lachetez works as manager for a cashier’s pay.”

“As I said, it was a temporary arrangement. He’s written me a few letters over the years, that s why I remember his name. He’s stressed, rather immodestly, I’d say, what excellent work he’s done and that he feds entitled to a manager’s status. I meant to work something out but you know how it is. I’ve more important things to attend to.”

“So he lost his patience and began dipping into the till. That’s what our anonymous writer claims. He speaks of large sums. How would it be possible? Audits every quarter; nothing irregular has come to my attention.”

“You don’t know the situation down there,” Duvernois said impatiently. “Our auditors needn’t find a thing. The books are probably in perfect order. To find out if there’s foul play we’d have to check loans and see if those who were presumably the recipient of same actually received them. All Lachetez has to do, if he’s dishonest, is to enter fictitious loans in the books. It would take some time before our people could ascertain whether or not the money went to the farmers or into Lachetez’ pockets.”

“If you’re really suspicious we’ll have to send someone down to make a thorough check; contact all the loan holders.”

“As simple as that?” Duvernois sneered. “Ask people if they actually received a loan from us, or does our manager just pretend they did. Oh, that would do wonders for our reputation!”

“Then what else? I don’t see—”

“Oh, you don’t. Let me inform you that the Merchants Bank not only loans money, it also receives money from depositors. Let me tell you also that the people down there are the most distrustful in all of France. It’s taken us years to convince them that their money is safer with us than under their mattresses. If they thought there was something fishy they’d see their worst fears confirmed and before you know it they would yank out all the money they’ve deposited with us ”

“We could discreetly question Lachetez?”

“Would you mind telling me how? Ask him in all confidence to be good enough to tell us whether or not he has embezzled money? You don’t know this region. Nothing there can be done discreetly. Even if we send a couple of accountants to recheck the books, the bank employes would know right away that something was up. In a matter of hours it would be all over town. And there’s Lachetez, of course. This requires tact.

“What about him?”

“Well, he’s innocent until proven guilty. After all, he’s worked for us for more than twenty years. I can’t gamble on hurting or embarrassing him. In a relatively small city like Nimes even a shadow of suspicion could damage him irrevocably.”

“What else can be done, then?”

“I thought you might have a suggestion. That’s why I asked you to come in. After all, I have so many important things to attend to.” He looked furtively at his watch... 11:45. He might still make it for aperitifs at Fouquet’s.

“The only suggestion I can offer is to send accountants down. Not make it a surprise check, but inform Lachetez that we’re making these checks all over the country.”

“The last audit took place only two months ago and ostensibly everything was in order. But if you can’t come up with anything better, then I suppose... write a letter to Lachetez, a nice letter, please, and give some excuse for this unusual procedure.”

“I’ll do that,” Bourdely said. Personally I don’t believe there’s anything to it. I never trust anonymous letters.”

“I hope you’re right. Please excuse me now. I have an important engagement.”

A week later there was nothing to report. “Absolutely nothing,” Edmond Bourdely declared. No unusual loans granted; as a matter of fact, far less than at the same time last year. Lachetez, according to everything said about him, was a very busy and dedicated man.

Duvernois listened with obvious relief. Did they say how Lachetez took it, he wanted to know. “They tell me he wasn’t fooled,” Bourdely admitted. “Indeed, he seemed to be quite upset... even offered to resign.”

“Resign?”

“He said we obviously didn’t trust him, and maybe it would be better to send someone from Paris to take over his duties, which he claimed were strenuous and... unrewarding.”

“But he didn’t resign?”

“No, but I guess he’s thinking about it.” Bourdely looked a little uncomfortable.

“This is what I might have expected,” Duvernois said. “Here he is one of our oldest employes... we’ll have to do something. Everything seems to be in order and we have nothing to worry about except Lachetez. Write him a conciliatory letter. He’ll calm down, you’ll see.”

Henry Duvernois stared at the letter in his hand. It looked the same as the other one and the envelope once more was PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL. Again Mlle. Arlette had put it on his desk unopened. He threw the switch on the intercom. “Ask Bourdely to see me immediately,” he bellowed.

When the treasurer came into his office Duvernois shoved the letter across the desk. “You and your suggestions,” he spat. “This scoundrel Lachetez has had you... you and your accountants. All he had to do when he got your letter was to take the embezzled money from wherever he had it hidden and put it back in the safe, make a few corrections in the books. He probably has two sets of books anyway! We made it easy for him.”

“May I remind you that it was your idea to inform Lachetez of our proposed audit, sir? You even told me to make it a ‘nice’ letter. Well, what are we going to do now?”

“Have you seen what our anonymous correspondent threatens to do? Write poison letters to our depositors, informing them that their money is going down the drain. You know what that could mean?”

“How old? What in creation has Bourdley asked.

“How old? What in creation has that to do... fifty... fifty-five. How am I supposed to know?”

“I see you haven’t read this letter carefully. It says something about Lachetez and a young girl.”

“I was upset,” Duvernois defended himself. “Let me see. Why of course, that’s the perfect reason... the old, old story. We’ll have to act, and quickly.”

“Send our men down there again?”

“No, we’ll go, you and I. It’s too important to leave to others.”

“But—”

“I tell you we’ll go. Our whole business in the Southwest depends on our acting quickly and efficiently. This time we won’t give Lachetez warning. We’ll take a plane and be there in three hours.”

They arrived at Nimes, via a rented car from Marseilles, in good time. At the bank they asked for the manager. “M. Lachetez isn’t here,” the assistant cashier told them.

“Not here? What do you mean, not here? Where is he, then?”

“He left for a short trip. Just a while ago. A young lady came for him and they both left. He explained that he had some business to do and would be back tomorrow.”

“A young lady... a short trip. Who was the young lady, and where did they go?”

“I don’t know, Monsieur.” The cashier looked puzzled. “Is there something I can do?”

“What trains are leaving?” Duvernois asked, grabbing hold of the man’s lapel. “We must speak to Lachetez before he leaves.”

“He might have got a train already,” Bourdely said.

“No, there would be no train after the ten o’clock until the Catalan for Geneva. Probably M. Lachetez is taking that. It is due in about seven minutes.”

“The Catalan... Geneva... that’s it,” Duvernois said, releasing the man. “The station, Bourdely. Get a cab.”

The cashier gestured. “I don’t think you could possibly make it. The station is too far away.”

“Give me the phone,” Duvernois said hoarsely. “Quick! Give me the phone.”

“But I don’t understand,” Auguste Lachetez said with tears in his eyes. “I do not understand at all. The gendarmerie at the station, and all those people staring at me.”

“I’m afraid it was necessary, Lachetez,” Duvernois said shortly. “Who is this young lady, sir?”

“My daughter, Eloise. She was raised by my sister in Arles, since my wife passed away. I was going to take her to Geneva to a boarding school. Now I have missed the train. Monsieur, please tell me: why was I prevented from taking the train and brought back here?”

Duvernois’ jaw fell. “Your daughter?”

“Yes... say ‘bon jour’ to M. Duvernois, Eloise.”

“And you were taking her to a boarding school?”

“Yes, there is a fine one, managed by the sisters. It’s an excellent school and not too expensive for a man who is not rich. I had intended to take the night train back.”

Duvernois looked at Bourdely, who looked quickly away. “I regret very much,” Duvernois said with a sense of growing uncertainty. “We would like, that is M. Bourdely would like to look at the books. He might as well, now that we’re here, and I’ll explain later. I assure you that I’ll explain everything. Bourdely?”

“The books? Again?” Lachetez’ face went stony. “But of course, Monsieur, the books.”

“Since we’re here,” Duvernois said uneasily.

“I don’t know what to say, Lachetez,” Duvernois muttered miserably. They were in his hotel room at the Cheval Blanc. Lachetez was seated in a leather chair, a broken man.

“I am finished,” he said, bowing his head. “I might as well go to America. Arrested at the train station by gendarmes, taken forcibly back to the bank, with my young daughter. It is too terrible!”

“I know, I know. This is a nightmare. M. Bourdely says that your management appears to be in excellent shape. In excellent...”

“Of course, Monsieur. I have been working in your bank for twenty-three years. And you thought something was wrong. That’s why you had examiners here only a short while ago, and now you come personally. Why, Monsieur? Why?”

“I can’t explain, Lachetez, not right now. I will later. But I sincerely hope that you will allow me to compensate for your... unh, inconvenience.”

“Inconvenience, M. Duvernois? That is indeed a mild word. L Auguste Lachetez, arrested at the station like a criminal! Of course it is all over town by now that I’ve done something frightful. No, Monsieur, I will have to leave the city; the country.”

“You will do nothing of the sort, Lachetez,” Duvernois said sternly. “Nobody around here will think ill of you, believe me. After all, I don’t make a promotion... manager of the Nimes Branch of the Merchants Trust... unless that someone is absolutely and irrevocably of the first quality.”

“Manager...” Lachetez stammered, somewhat lost for words.

“Yes, manager, of cause. You should have had the designation long ago. And the salary. Never too late, eh, Lachetez?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

Say nothing. Just enjoy it. We will let everyone know immediately. That will quiet any rumors. I think you need a vacation. I’m sure someone here can take your place for a week. You come to Paris with us as our guest. You and your lovely daughter. Yes, that’s what we’ll do. It fits in too. We will let it be known that you weren’t arrested, of course. I had to prevent your leaving for Geneva because we needed you in Paris for an important conference. The new manager of the Nimes Branch was asked to attend board meetings. How does it sound, Lachetez? You show your daughter around and then you can take her to Geneva from Paris, at the end of the week. It’s only an hour by plane.”

M. Lachetez’ color began to return. “It sounds wonderful, M. Duvernois,” he said gratefully. “Did you hear that, Eloise? We are going to Paris! Notre Dame, the Louvre... and I, to be the new manager of the Merchants Bank in Nimes, I don’t know what to say!”

“Say nothing,” Duvernois repeated. “You deserve it,” he added expansively. “Indeed you do.

“How do you like Paris, Uncle Auguste?” Arlette asked. They were having dinner at her tiny apartment in Neuilly.

“It’s astounding,” Lachetez said, hungrily eating his oeufs tapenade. “A miraculous city. And Arlette, my dear, how can I ever thank you for all you have done?”

“It was nothing. A pleasure, dear Uncle. We were all outraged that you were shown no recognition, after three years! But it was your plan, after all. What a clever man you are, Uncle Auguste.”

Lachetez beamed. “I think, too, it was an ingenious scheme,” he agreed complacently. “I wasn’t too sure about the first letter, but I knew the second one would bring real results. I didn’t know exactly what, but I felt fairly safe, knowing that you would get word to me what Duvernois meant to do about it.”

“It was easy,” Arlette crowed. “It was I who had to make their plane reservations to Marseilles, and he told me, without my having to ask, that he would be doing business in Nimes. It was almost too simple, Uncle.”

“As soon as I got your call I had Pepe check the plane at Marseilles and he saw them renting the car. It was child’s play from then on. I had Eloise pack the suitcase and fortunately it worked out perfectly, with the Catalan leaving around that time. It was even better that they didn’t have a chance to go to the station themselves. Having them call out the gendarmerie made it so much more dramatic.”

“Have some more sauce,” Arlette said. “You too, Eloise. I’m a good cook, yes?”

“Magnificent, cherie. Say, isn’t this a funny life? I wrote letters and letters telling him what an honest and efficient man I am and I didn’t even have an answer to any of them. But when I finally told him I was a scoundrel and a thief, he made me a manager.”

“To your health, Uncle,” Mile. Arlette said, raising her glass of vin rosé. “A votre bonne santé.”