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Brett, I think you deserve your reputation. For the first time during eighteen months I feel hopeful. Do you know, I passed dozens of acquaintances in the streets yesterday and none of them knew me. Yet you pick me out at the first glance, so to speak." "They might do the same if you spoke to them, Mr. "Hume, if you please." "Certainly. Why have you dropped part of your surname?"
Brett promptly wired, "Yes," and then set out for Montmartre, dressing himself in the height of fashion so far as his wardrobe would permit, and donning a fierce moustache and wig, which completely altered his appearance. He looked like a successful impressario or popular Italian tenor. The fair-ground of Montmartre was in full swing when Brett arrived there.
Astro followed, cursing the fog that prevented him from seeing where Miles stood below him so he could drop the heavy box on him. Above them, Charles Brett watched them emerge out of the ammonia mist, ray gun held tightly in his hand. Tom climbed into the air lock safely and dropped the box on the edge of the platform, slumping to the deck beside it. Astro followed seconds later, and then Miles.
Gaultier clearly hesitated, but did not refuse to accept the Under-Secretary's letter, which Brett handed to him, with the words "You know the handwriting, no doubt?" "That speaks for itself." The King's messenger smiled when he returned the note. "It is an odd coincidence," he added, "and still more curious that you should spot me so readily. However, Mr. Brett, we have now cleared the air.
Brett refused to give up the key of the van, which he held; and the attacking party commenced various endeavours to break it open. At length one of them called out to fire a pistol into the lock, and thus burst it open. The unfortunate Brett at that moment was looking through the keyhole, endeavouring to get a view of the inexplicable scene outside, when he received the bullet and fell dead.
The constable on the beat had in truth seen something of Mrs Verloc; only coming from the lighted thoroughfare at the other end of Brett Street, she had been no more to him than a flutter in the darkness. And he was not even quite sure that there had been a flutter. He had no reason to hurry up. On coming abreast of the shop he observed that it had been closed early.
"That is very odd," said the barrister. "It was a mere guess on my part, I assure you." His assurance evidently did not weigh much with Captain Gaultier, who replaced the note-book in his pocket, and obviously cast about in his mind for a convenient excuse to take his departure. Brett knew exactly what was troubling him.
At Goose Cove he turned five geese ashore; at Mercury Bay he did astronomical work. On the other hand, Capes North, South, East, and West, and Capes Brett, Saunders, Stephens, and Jackson, Rock's Point, and Black Head are neither quaint nor romantic names. Cascade Point and the Bay of Islands justify themselves, and Banks' Peninsula may be accepted for Sir Joseph's sake.
Every tree and stick in Brett's 'Val d'Aosta' is truthfully painted, but the picture as a whole does not give the spectator the impression of truth, for the simple reason that the eye can never see at once what Brett has tried to make it see. All the wonderfully veracious detail in the work of the Pre-Raphaelite does not give the impression of life.
He begged the priest as a great favour to assure me on his word that the bomb was certainly intended for me, and not for Brett. On this subject the Kent Leader had some interesting remarks on the anarchists as well as their Judge. "Speaking of dynamite," it said, "we have serious cause for alarm in our free land.
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