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Updated: May 17, 2025
But I wish that I had not heard that laugh!" Duncombe leaned his gun up against a gate. A few yards away his host was talking to the servants who had brought down luncheon. The rest of the party were only just in sight a field or two off. "Have a glass of sherry before lunch, George?" his host asked, strolling towards him. "Nothing to drink, thanks! I'd like a cigarette, if you have one."
Duncombe asked eagerly. "Nothing!" Duncombe's face fell, but he looked a little puzzled. "Nothing? I don't understand. They must have heard that they had been there anyhow." "They discovered nothing. You do not understand the significance of this. I do! It means that I was mistaken for one thing. Their disappearance has more in it than the usual significance.
Madame was on her feet with remarkable celerity. She accepted the coin and carefully placed it in a purse drawn from somewhere amongst the folds of her voluminous skirts. "We shall need a candle," Duncombe reminded her. She lit a lamp, talking all the while. "Monsieur is very generous," she declared. "Mademoiselle Flossie is a charming young lady. No wonder she has many friends.
Duncombe watched them shake hands and move away before he could recover sufficiently from his first fit of surprise to intervene. Then a realization of what had happened rushed in upon him. They, too, then, had been to the Café Montmartre, with their obvious Anglicisms, their clumsy inquiries to make of themselves without doubt the jest of that little nest of intriguers, and afterwards their tool.
Then he began to ask himself how that farewell token, the golden coin, which he had taken from his pocket in that parting hour, and upon which he had idly scratched his own initial, had come into the possession of Joseph Duncombe. He was not a man of the world, and he was not able to reason calmly and logically on the subject of his brother's untimely fate.
Literally and figuratively, their lives seemed to wander through flowery pleasure-paths. Here was cold, biting mid-winter for her, and such as her for those poor beggars almost a season of death; but to Miss Duncombe and her companions, a happy, merry time, when flowers still bloomed, and fires crackled, and comforts and luxuries were piled around them like fairy gifts.
Wheel that easy-chair up, Spencer, will you?" Spencer's brow had betrayed not the slightest sign of surprise, but Duncombe fancied that the Marquis had glanced at him keenly. He was holding a note in his hand, which he offered to Duncombe. "My errand is so unusual, and the hour so extraordinary," he said, "that I thought it would be better for Chestow to write you a line or two.
An inquiry was instituted; but the result not only disappointed but utterly confounded the accusers. The persecuted minister obtained both a complete acquittal, and a signal revenge. Circumstances were discovered which seemed to indicate that Duncombe himself was not blameless.
If there's really anything serious behind all this, do you suppose it would be the truth?" "You're quite right, I suppose," Duncombe admitted, "but it seems beastly to be doing nothing." "Better be doing nothing than doing harm!" Spencer declared. "Look round the other cafés and the boulevards. And come here at eleven to-morrow morning. We'll breakfast together at Paillard's."
Her ladyship raised her glasses. Duncombe and Miss Fielding had strolled outside the barn. He was showing her his house a very picturesque old place it looked, down in the valley. "It's nothing but a farmhouse, of course," he said. "No pretensions to architecture or anything of that sort, of course, but it's rather a comfortable old place." "I think it is perfectly charming," the girl said.
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