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Updated: June 21, 2025
"I did not know you were on this case." "Monsieur Lefevre sent me from Paris last night. We are expecting news at any moment. Monsieur Duvall is with you, I observe." "Yes. He is following the man from London. He will telephone me, as soon as he learns his destination." The man whom Dufrenne had addressed as Lablanche, looked grave.
Can you imagine anything more terrible?" Duvall thought for moment of his own lovely child, now almost three years old, and shuddered. Bank burglaries, thefts of jewels, seemed relatively of small importance compared with such a situation as this. His feelings of chivalry rose. He felt a strong desire to help this young girl. "Here is her picture," Mrs.
Duvall judged that it had been placed there to provide easy communication between the upper roof and the lower. Leaving the ladder where it stood, he made his way down to the roof of the back building. It was covered with tin, and he walked softly in his stockinged feet to avoid being overheard.
He'll be wanted in London for the murder of the man Noël." "Yes. That also is important." Dufrenne went into the adjoining room and stood looking at the sleeping barber. "But not so important as the return of the snuff box to Monsieur de Grissac." Duvall followed him, and lifting one of Seltz's arms, let it drop suddenly. It fell to his side, lifeless. "He's sleeping like a log.
He once more made his way toward the girl's room, followed by Mrs. Morton. The room was precisely as they had left it. The window facing to the rear was wide open, Duvall having omitted to close it after his examination of the fire escape. The window fronting on the court was raised perhaps six inches.
You would be in no greater danger, if you were carrying about with you a package of dynamite." "You are unduly nervous, monsieur," laughed Duvall, as he observed the Frenchman's look of terror. "I have every confidence in my ability to take care of myself. I must notify my wife to join me here as soon as possible." "How do you propose to do so?" inquired Dufrenne. For a moment Duvall was puzzled.
"Miss Morton," Duvall said, "do you recognize either of these two women as the one who attacked you in your rooms last night?" The girl gazed helplessly from Miss Ford to her companion and back again. Then she slowly shook her head. "No," she said. "It might have been either of them. They look somewhat alike. But as for saying which one it was, if it was either of them, I'm afraid I can't.
"Most curious. The picture in question was, I find, taken from the files by Mr. Moore, our president, and placed on his desk. He always admired it, and kept it there, along with a number of others, to show to persons calling upon him. Now, it seems, it has disappeared. There is not the slightest trace of it." "But," Duvall objected, "who could have taken it?" "A dozen people.
There were tears in Mrs. Morton's anxious eyes. "I can never repay you for your kindness never. But if you can save Ruth from these scoundrels, I will gladly spend " "Never mind about that, Mrs. Morton," Duvall observed, with a friendly smile. "It is scarcely a question of money with me.
There were large splashes of sealing wax all over the bottom of the tin tray, not minute spots, such as might have been made by the dropping of bits of the hot wax in making a seal, but circular splotches half an inch or more in diameter, as though a great quantity of the material had been melted. "What do you make of it?" Duvall asked. "I don't know.
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