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Part I | Baroness Emmuska Orczy | |
XIX It Is About The Dauphin |
Page 3 of 4 |
There was silence now in the narrow room, while the white-faced clock continued to tick off each succeeding second of time. Heron had once more buried his head in his hands; a trembling--like an attack of ague--shook his wide, bony shoulders. Armand had listened to the narrative with glowing eyes and a beating heart. The details which the two Terrorists here could not probably understand he had already added to the picture which his mind had conjured up. He was back in thought now in the small lodging in the rear of St. Germain l'Auxerrois; Sir Andrew Ffoulkes was there, and my Lord Tony and Hastings, and a man was striding up and down the room, looking out into the great space beyond the river with the eyes of a seer, and a firm voice said abruptly: "It is about the Dauphin!" "Have you any suspicions?" asked Chauvelin now, pausing in his walk beside Heron, and once more placing a firm, peremptory hand on his colleague's shoulder. "Suspicions!" exclaimed the chief agent with a loud oath. "Suspicions! Certainties, you mean. The man sat here but two days ago, in that very chair, and bragged of what he would do. I told him then that if he interfered with Capet I would wring his neck with my own hands." And his long, talon-like fingers, with their sharp, grimy nails, closed and unclosed like those of feline creatures when they hold the coveted prey. "Of whom do you speak?" queried Chauvelin curtly. "Of whom? Of whom but that accursed de Batz? His pockets are bulging with Austrian money, with which, no doubt, he has bribed the Simons and Cochefer and the sentinels--" "And Lorinet and Lasniere and you," interposed Chauvelin dryly. |
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El Dorado Baroness Emmuska Orczy |
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