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The Russian woman spoke in some tongue, the like of which Benson had never heard before. It was Arabic, a language that both of these spies understood perfectly. What she said was: "The boy is yours. Do what you can with him. I admit that I have failed. I have no hope of being able to do anything with him." M. Lemaire's eyebrows contracted briefly, in a slight frown.
See Lemaire's Virgil, vol. vi, p. 521; commentary of Servius on AEneid, lib. viii, 631. AElicariae Bakers' girls. Noctiluae Night walkers. Blitidae A very low class deriving their name from a cheap drink sold in the dens they frequented. Forariae Country girls who frequented the roads.
Once, when a company was halted beneath him, while the officers went in to the Faisan d'Or across the road, to see what they could loot in the way of drinks, the ex-sergeant aimed carefully at the captain, but he put down his rifle without firing. At last, late in the afternoon when the dusk was beginning to hide the southern hills, Jules Lemaire's waiting came to an end.
Henderson had already been reconnoitring the shop for a week and had conceived a clever plan by which we got in from the rear, quickly opened the two big safes with the copied keys, and cleared out all old Lemaire's best stock.
Trotter's answer was to leap upon the Frenchman, pinioning his arms behind him. Packwood snapped handcuffs over the prisoner's wrists. "Here is the bullet that Hastings dug out of the tree the one that was probably fired at me," added Captain Jack. "And here is M. Lemaire's cane-pistol. You can see whether the bullet fits the cane."
For a few seconds Jack Benson did not dare trust himself to utter a word. When he did speak, it was to ask, calmly: "M. Lemaire, who is your master?" "My master?" repeated the Frenchman. "I do not understand you." "Every dog, even a dirty one," thundered Captain Jack Benson, "has a master! Who's yours?" M. Lemaire's face became livid in an instant.
The Journal for 1867 begins with Usual engagements in the early part of the year. Circourt came in April, and we went together to Norwich. To Paris in April. Met Mrs. Grote and Hayward on the road. Morny gave me a card to see the Great Exhibition before it opened. A great banquet at the Embassy on the 25th. On the 30th with Chevalier to Lemaire's fabrique. He gave me my aluminium binocle.
M. Lemaire's face looked uglier than Jack had ever dreamed it possible for a man's face to look. As Hal and Farnum let go his arms the spy took a quick step toward Jack Benson. "Stop that!" commanded Trotter, sharply, leaping to grab the spy. "I only want to say one word to this young scamp!" hissed Lemaire. "I will not hurt him."
He laughed merrily, now, and Mlle. Nadiboff turned away her head to conceal the tears of vexation that started to her eyes. "Bah!" she thought to herself. "I have been wasting time at Lemaire's orders. The only way to induce this boy to betray his trust will be by offering him presents of marbles, tops, kites bah! Bah!" Mlle.
Drop in, if you are in Paris and know the way, at one of Madeleine Lemaire's informal evenings in her studio. There you may find the Prince de Ligne, chatting with Rejane or Coquelin; or Henri d'Orleans, just back from an expedition into Africa. A little further on, Saint-Saens will be running over the keys, preparing an accompaniment for one of Madame de Tredern's songs.
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