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Updated: June 13, 2025
Crystal's cold challenge recalled him to himself, and now he felt ashamed of what he had just contemplated, ashamed, too, of what he had done. He hated the Comte .
"All right. Begin right here in True Gold, or Pretty Crystal's Love. This is the place: 'With a terrible scream, Crystal sprang toward the fire escape, carrying her mother and her little sister in her arms."
I tracked the thieves," he continued with vehemence as eager as Crystal's, "I tracked them to a lonely hostelry off the beaten track at dead of night a den of cutthroats and conspirators. I tracked the thief to his lair and forced him to give the money up to me." "You forced him? .
Then de Marmont, with Crystal's look of loathing still eating into his soul, caught sight of Clyffurde who stood close by Clyffurde whose one thought throughout all this unhappy scene had been of Crystal, who through it all had eyes and ears only for her.
Cord made a lateral gesture with his hand, as if all he had were at the disposal of his friends, even his most precious asset time. "It's something very important," Eddie went on. "I'm worried. I haven't slept. Mr. Cord, have you checked up Crystal's economic beliefs lately?" "Lately?" said Mr. Cord. "I don't know that I ever have. Have a cigar?"
"By whom then?" queried the Comte irritably. "By me," replied Mme. la Duchesse. "By you, Sophie! Impossible!" "And God alive, why impossible, I pray you?" she retorted. "The money, I understand, is in a very portable form, notes and bankers' drafts, which can be stowed away quite easily. Why shouldn't I be journeying back to Paris after Crystal's wedding?
All his vehemence, his riotous outbreak of rebellion seemed to have been smothered beneath a pall of dreary despair. His young, good-looking face appeared sombre and sullen, his restless, dark eyes wandered obstinately from Crystal's fair bent head to her stooping shoulders, to her hands, to her feet.
Not a single detail of that moving little episode had escaped de Marmont's keen eyes: he had seen Crystal's look of positive abhorrence wherewith she had regarded Clyffurde, he had seen the gathering up of her skirts away as it were from the contaminating propinquity of the "English spy." And de Marmont was satisfied.
In the deafening noise of shrieking and sighs and whizzing bullets and cries of agony he heard Crystal's voice telling him what to do. Already he had seen St. Genis struggling on his knees not fifty mètres away from the first line of tirailleurs, not a hundred from the advancing steel wall of fixed bayonets.
Genis the details of this awful adventure: the ransacking of the carriage by the mysterious miscreant the loss of the twenty-five millions, the complete shattering of all hope to help the King with this money in the hour of his need, and finally Crystal's desperate act of revenge, as she shot the pistol off into the darkness, hoping at least to disable the impudent rogue who had done them and the King such a fatal injury.
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