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Updated: May 29, 2025
If there is anything in the chimney that ought not to be there, he'll dig it out, and save our midnight visitor any further trouble." "Why not wait a little while?" Fitzgerald ventured. "With Breitmann and me in the house, we might trap the man." "A good scheme!" "He comes from the outside, somewhere; from the cellar, probably. Let us try the cellar."
"What dance, and where?" "Well, Madame Didier, that jolly little furbelowed Frenchwoman with whom I was driving just now, has got up a regular party to-night " "Hans Breitmann gib a barty?" I interposed, with a mock solemn air of inquiry. Amy laughed. "Well, yes, it MAY be that kind of thing, for all I know to the contrary. Anyhow, she's hired the band and ordered a right-down elegant supper.
"I dare say," replied the latter, "that there's only one thing we two haven't ridden: ostriches. Camels and elephants and donkeys; we've done some warm sprinting. Eh, Breitmann?" The secretary agreed with a nod. He was rather grateful for Fitzgerald's presence. This occupation was not going to be menial; at the least, there would be pleasant sides to it.
Fitzgerald could join certain squares of the puzzle, but this led forward scarce a step. Breitmann had entered the employ of the admiral for the very purpose for which M. Ferraud had journeyed sundrily into the cellar and beaten futilely on the chimney. It resolved to one thing, and that was the secretary had arrived too late. He was sure that Breitmann had no suspicion regarding M. Ferraud.
"It is because she doesn't care," thought Breitmann. "It is because she knows we don't care," thought Fitzgerald. And he was nearer the truth than Breitmann. The dinner was pleasant, and there was much talk of travel. The admiral had touched nearly every port, Fitzgerald had been round three times, and Breitmann four. The girl experienced a sense of elation as she listened.
"Small good it will do him." "Corsica," repeated the girl dreamily. "Ay, Napoleon. The Corsican Brothers' daggers and vendetta, the restless island! It is full of interest. I have been there." Breitmann smiled pleasantly at the girl, but his thought was unsmiling.
The fact that I am not in the mountains should convince you how strong I am." Breitmann hesitated, wondering whether he had best shoot this meddler then and there and cut for it, or follow him. "I will go with you. But I give you this warning: if what I hear is not what you expect me to hear, I promise to put a bullet into your meddling head." "I agree to that," replied the other.
Some day I will give you my version." The little man smiled over his butterfly, took out a wallet, something on the pattern of a fisherman's, and put the new-found specimen into one of the mica compartments, in which other dead butterflies of variant beauty reposed. "So I become a private secretary, till the time offers something better." Breitmann stared at the sea. "I am sorry.
He walked silently to the door and opened it, standing aside for the other to pass. "She is perfectly free. Marry her. She is all and more than you wish her to be. Will you go now?" Cathewe bowed and turned on his heel. Breitmann had really got the better of him. A peculiar interview, and only two strong men could have handled it in so few words.
To sum it up briefly, Breitmann was difficult to understand and Fitzgerald wasn't. Fitzgerald had an idea; boldly put, it was a grave suspicion. Not once had he forgotten the man in the chimney. Once the finger had pointed at Breitmann or some one with whom he was in understanding. This had proved to be groundless. But he kept turning over the incident and inspecting it from all sides.
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