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Updated: June 5, 2025
The ladies who left their wraps in this upstairs cloakroom must be dining in private rooms on the same floor, she thought. "Out there in the gallery their men will be waiting for them," the girl told herself. "And maybe that's where my man is waiting for me!"
He seemed dazed. "Stop him!" he shouted. "Stop him!" The little group in the doorway looked at one another. "He went that way!" the cloakroom attendant cried out again. "He passed through that door!" Some of them rushed into the street. One man hurried to the telephone, the others pressed forward to where Rosario lay on his back, with a thin stream of blood finding its way through his waistcoat.
An alert detective, revolver in hand, was peering through the curtains of the cloakroom; this sentry, in particular, would alarm the garrison if, as Winter had definitely warned his assistants, an attempt were ever made to enter the house by main force. "I think I must be dreaming," she said, trying bravely to lessen the gravity of the statement by smiling at its inherent absurdity.
An attendant was obliged to place himself at the head of it, and conduct it to a door. Then in the courtyard of the Louvre, when it had recovered its umbrellas from the cloakroom, it breathed again. Monsieur Madinier regained his assurance. He had made a mistake in not turning to the left, now he recollected that the jewelry was to the left.
"Good-evening, miss. Good-evening, miss." The two girls vanished rustlingly through a door over which was hung a piece of cardboard with the written words: "Ladies' cloakroom." In a few moments they emerged, white and fluffy apparitions, eager, self-conscious, and they vanished through another door. Mr.
"I'd better get out of this anyhow," thought Mr. Prohack, surveying the ladies' cloakroom. "If one of 'em came in I should have to explain my unexplainable presence in this sacred grot." Having received no suggestion from his daughter as to how he should dispose of himself while awaiting her leisure, Mr. Prohack made his way back to the guardian's cubicle.
These passes should give the names of employees, their numbers, what departments employed in, date and time of going out, and must be presented to the time-keeper, who will permit employees to go to the cloakroom for wraps and pass them out.
He was drunk; not with that drunkenness which is stupid, maudlin, wavering on its feet, but with that which is alert, unnaturally intelligent, vicious, perfectly steady, deadly wicked. Trina only had to look once at him, and in an instant, with some strange sixth sense, born of the occasion, knew what she had to expect. She jumped up and ran from him into the little cloakroom.
Say that you are expecting a trunk which a commissionaire is bringing from the station cloakroom and that you will want to unpack and pack it again in your room; and tell them that you are leaving." When alone, Lupin examined Daubrecq carefully, felt in all his pockets and appropriated everything that seemed to present any sort of interest. The Growler was the first to return.
In less than a minute a bunch of house detectives was on the spot, the young hesitationer was whisked into a cloakroom, and the other gent was bein' shot towards the fresh air. Just a glimpse that I caught of his flushed face as it was bein' tucked under a bouncer's arm set me in action.
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