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Updated: June 12, 2025
He was, in fact, on the point of stopping the automobile, and going at once to the pension where Grace was waiting for him, her trunks packed for their wedding journey. The impassive face of the Frenchman beside him relaxed a trifle, as he saw Duvall's agitation. "What is it, Monsieur Duvall?" he inquired.
Lefevre, Dufrenne, and Grace also crowded about, their expressions showing the interest which Duvall's questions had aroused. The detective began to unroll the little white pellet with the utmost deliberation. It presently became a tiny strip of tissue paper, not over two and a half inches long, upon which was written a series of numbers.
I ask your pardon, and that of madame, your wife," cried Lefevre, seizing Duvall's hands in his. Grace looked proudly at her husband, her knowledge of her own weakness forgotten in the triumph that he had won. "And now, monsieur," said Duvall, with a look of happiness in his face as he caught his wife's glance, "with your permission, Mrs.
He did not, it is true, dismiss the matter from his mind it was, indeed, of too grave and sinister a character to be treated thus lightly, but he had the utmost confidence in Duvall, and believed that the latter would without doubt succeed in his quest. Since Duvall's departure, he had waited anxiously for the detective's appearance.
"What is wrong, Mrs. Morton?" he asked. "There has been another warning a dreadful one," the older woman exclaimed, her voice trembling. "It came a little after ten." "What was it?" Duvall's voice was almost as strained as that of the woman before him. Her words came to him as a complete surprise. Had all the work of the evening, then, been wasted? "At a little after ten," Mrs.
"Search him, Mayer," he said, as he pinned Duvall's wrists together in his iron grip. The man addressed as Mayer at once began a systematic search of Duvall's person. With deft fingers he explored his pockets, felt the linings of his clothing, tore through the contents of his pocketbook.
The latter had told him nothing of her reasons for interviewing him, contenting herself with the bare statement that she had a letter to him from Mr. Stapleton. This, however, had been enough to set Duvall's nerves to tingling and to cause him to conclude that the mysterious woman who desired to interview him in such a hurry came on no ordinary business.
It produced nothing more startling than a violent fit of sneezing. Undoubtedly Monsieur de Grissac had told the truth. He did use snuff. Closing the box, Duvall regarded it for a moment in silence, then looked at Dufrenne. "It isn't worth a hundred francs," he said. "The box?" answered the curio dealer, as he followed Duvall's glances.
Hartmann's house as spies, he will of necessity refuse to assist you further. Should he not do so, should he demand Mr. Duvall's release, nothing would be gained, since the snuff box would of necessity be left behind. Dr. Hartmann will not injure your husband he is too anxious to get possession of the snuff box for that.
Had not Jeff writhed in jealous misery the while he heard the annals of a rival's successes? So Jeff made prompt answer. "Yas, suh, I suttinly does. Ise heared a right smart 'bout dis yere Duvall's past life frum frum somebody. 'Cordin' to the way he norrates it, he wuz in Nashville, Tennessee 'fore he come yere; an' 'fore dat in Mobile, Alabama; an' 'fore dat in Little Rock, Arkansaw.
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