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He sent the poison by which she was destroyed from Italy by a nobleman of Provence, named Morel: this man was afterwards given to me as chief maitre d'hotel, and after he had sufficiently robbed me they made him sell his place at a high price. This Morel was very clever, but he was a man totally void of moral or religious principle; he confessed to me that he did not believe in anything.
Whether there had been any dispute between the handle, and the blade, I know not, but there were very evident appearances of an approaching separation. The maitresse d'hôtel, who had a pair of fine dark expressive eyes, very archly said, "Why would you wish to change it, Sir? it is an english one." It certainly looked like one; no compliment could be neater.
The latter glanced at them and nodded. "Thank you, Charles," he said, "I've had my eye on them. The girl's a pauper, daughter of that old fool Grimes, the actor. Does a little typewriting precious little, I should think, from the look of her. The man's interesting. Don't talk about them. Understand?" The maître d'hôtel bowed. "I understand, Inspector. Not much any one can tell you, sir."
She crossed, you know, on the Prince Doronda's yacht, for fear they wouldn't let her land." "Here she comes," Pamela whispered. There was a moment's spellbound silence. Two maitres d'hotel were hurrying in front. A pathway from the lift had been cleared as though for a royal personage.
He sent the poison by which she was destroyed from Italy by a nobleman of Provence, named Morel: this man was afterwards given to me as chief maitre d'hotel, and after he had sufficiently robbed me they made him sell his place at a high price. This Morel was very clever, but he was a man totally void of moral or religious principle; he confessed to me that he did not believe in anything.
We passed the lovely château of the Marquis de T. who is Minister Plenipotentiary from Costa Rica. Of course, this is neutral property and flies a neutral flag, but the place is filled with officers and, according to the maitre d'hotel, the wine cellar is undergoing a thorough inventory. August 28th, Friday.
He had left Hill Street five minutes after Fetherston, and driven down to the Savoy, where he had a rendezvous for supper with his friend. That he was an habitué there was patent from the fact that upon entering the restaurant, Alphonse, the maître d'hôtel, with his plan of the tables pinned upon the board, greeted him with, "Ah! good evening, Docteur.
As he strolled back to the smoking-room, he saw the maitre d'hotel slyly deliver a twisted bit of paper to the all too unconcerned looking young Adonis, and the gleam of a napoleon shone out in the grave faced Figaro's hand. "Now for our cafe noir, a good pousse cafe and a dash at the painted beauties.
"With all my heart, uncle Ro. The custom was getting to be a little obsolete even before I left home; but it is almost an American custom, by sticking to us longer than to most people." "Henri!" This was my uncle's maitre d'hotel, whom he had kept at board-wages the whole time of our absence, in order to make sure of his ease, quiet, taste, skill, and honesty, on his return. "Monsieur!"
There might be handsomer men present in this hotel, but was there any one who wore his clothes better? He turned and walked down the corridor. The mâitre d'hôtel stepped forward inquiringly as the dummy-chucker hesitated in the doorway. "A table, sir?" "You have one reserved for me. This right-hand one by the door." "Ah, yes, of course, sir. This way, sir." He turned toward the table.
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