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Updated: June 12, 2025
It was on Tuesday that John Armitage had appeared before her in the pergola. It was now Thursday afternoon, and Chauvenet had been to see her twice since, and she had met him the night before at a dance at one of the cottages.
"I tell you" began Chauvenet fiercely. "Who am I?" asked Armitage again. "I don't know who you are " "You do not! You certainly do not!" laughed Armitage; "but whom have you believed me to be, Monsieur?" "I thought " "Yes; you thought " "I thought there seemed reasons to believe " "Yes; and you believe it; go on!"
Chauvenet shifted uneasily from one foot to another under the gaze of the five people who waited for his answer; then he screamed shrilly: "You are the devil an impostor, a liar, a thief!" Baron von Marhof leaped to his feet and roared at Chauvenet in English: "Who is this man? Whom do you believe him to be?" "Answer and be quick about it!" snapped Claiborne.
Very likely the man was under instructions, and had been told to follow the Claibornes home; and the thought of their identification with himself by his enemies angered him. Chauvenet was likely to appear in Washington at any time, and would undoubtedly seek the Claibornes at once.
Count von Stroebel held up his empty glass and studied it attentively, while he waited for Armitage to explain why he expected to see Rambaud in Geneva. "He is interested in a certain young woman. She reached here yesterday; and Rambaud, alias Chauvenet, is quite likely to arrive within a day or so." "Jules Chauvenet is the correct name. I must inform my men," said the minister.
In half an hour Chauvenet was again in a fury, learning at Lamar that the operator had gone down the road twenty miles to a dance and would not be back until morning. The imperturbable Durand shivered in the night air and prodded Chauvenet with ironies. "We have no time to lose. That message must go tonight. You may be sure Monsieur Armitage will not send it for us.
Chauvenet struck off at once away from the lake, turned into the Boulevard Helvétique, thence into the Boulevard Froissart with its colony of pensions. He walked rapidly until he reached a house that was distinguished from its immediate neighbors only by its unlighted upper windows. He pulled the bell in the wall, and the door was at once opened and instantly closed.
Chauvenet is an accomplished man of the world," declared Shirley with an insincere sparkle in her eyes. "He lives by his wits and lives well." Claiborne dismissed Chauvenet and turned again toward the strange young man, who was still deep in his newspaper. "He's reading the Neue Freie Presse," remarked Dick, "by which token I argue that he's some sort of a Dutchman.
Her head was turned partly toward him; he saw her for an instant through the throng; then his eyes fell upon Chauvenet at her side, talking with liveliest animation. He was not more than her own height, and his profile presented the clean, sharp effect of a cameo.
And the young man, whom Chauvenet called Durand, lifted his tiny glass airily. "Yes; the heights," repeated Chauvenet a little dreamily. "But that declaration that document! You have never honored me with a glimpse; but you have it put safely away, I dare say." "There is no place but one that I dare risk. It is always within easy reach, my dear friend." "You will do well to destroy that document.
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