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Updated: September 6, 2025
"Rose Andree is alive," he said. "Otherwise Dalbreque would have left the country. The poor thing must be imprisoned and bound up; and he takes her some food at night." "We will save her, won't we?" "Certainly, by keeping a watch on him and, if necessary, but in the last resort, compelling him by force to give up his secret."
If those fellows take a hand, they will spoil everything." "Why? On the contrary, I should have thought...." "Yes, they will. They will put Dalbreque out of the way ... and then? Will that give us Rose Andree?" Dalbreque had finished his preparations. Just as he was mounting his bicycle, the detectives rose in a body, ready to make a dash for him.
Dalbreque leant over the terrace and muttered an oath: "On the watch for me?" he said, turning round. "What do I care?" "They have a warrant." He folded his arms: "Shut up with your piffle! A warrant! What's that to me?" "Listen," said Renine, "and let us waste no time. It's urgent.
"It's incredible! How were you able to manage it all?" "I wanted to kiss your hand," he said. She removed her glove, as he bade her, and raised her hand to his lips. The car was speeding between the peaceful Seine and the white cliffs that border it. They sat silent for a long while. Then he said: "I had a talk with Dalbreque last night.
Now they've killed him!" "Oh, it isn't possible!" "We shall see. But, whether he's dead or alive, it's death to Rose Andree. How are we to trace her? And what chance have we of finding the place some inaccessible retreat where the poor thing is dying of misery and starvation?" The detectives and peasants had moved away, bearing Dalbreque with them on an improvised stretcher.
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