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Updated: June 19, 2025
Henry had no alternative but to pass beneath the commissionaire's bended and respectful head. Once within the gorgeous twilit hall of the Louvre, Henry was set upon by two very diminutive and infantile replicas of the commissionaire, one of whom staggered away with his overcoat, while the other secured the remainder of the booty in the shape of his hat, muffler, and stick, and left Henry naked.
He explained the situation in a few halting words, and led the way to his office, Frank accompanying him. John Minute examined the checks. "That is my writing," he said. "I could swear to it myself, and yet I never wrote those checks or signed them. Did you note the commissionaire's number?" "As it happens I jotted it down," said Frank. By this time the manager was on the phone to the police.
She made her way into the street outside, shook her head to the commissionaire's upraised whistle, and strolled along until she came to a cross street down which several motor-cars were waiting. She approached one a very handsome limousine and checked the driver who would have sprung from his seat.
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