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Updated: May 25, 2025
Please exert best endeavours to get him out of France alive as soon as possible." The girl was laughing as she returned Lanyard's telegram and received her own. "'Mature charms'!" she pouted. "'Enjoyable intellectual evening'! Oh, how depressing! Poor Paul! but you must have felt discouraged." "I did at first." "And afterwards ?" "Disappointed."
Now by that same token he was no member of that smoking-room coterie upon which Lanyard's suspicions had centered. On the other hand, any number of passengers had worn beards, not a few of much the same mode as that sported by this nonchalant fraud. Vainly Lanyard cudgelled his wits to aid a laggard memory, haunted by a feeling that he ought to know this man instantly, even in so poor a light.
But Popinot wouldn't move without leave from De Morbihan, and unless Lanyard's calculations were seriously miscast, De Morbihan would restrain both himself and his associates until thoroughly convinced Lanyard was impregnable against every form of persuasion. Murder was something a bit out of De Morbihan's line something, at least, which he might be counted on to hold in reserve.
The coincidence of finding those two so closely associated worked with the riddle of that note further to trouble Lanyard's mind. Was he to believe Au Printemps the legitimate successor in America of that less pretentious establishment on the rue d'Antin, an overseas headquarters for Secret Service agents of the Central Powers?
The door was taking on the look of a sieve, and the neighbourhood of the deadlights, Lanyard's sole avenue of escape, was being well peppered. Something would have to be done about it... Lanyard completed his preparations by kicking off his shoes and taking up another notch in the belt that supported his trousers.
He had only found his feet when an unidentified person hurled himself bodily through the gloom and wrapped his arms round Lanyard's thighs. And as both went down, two others piled up on top.... For the next minute or two, Lanyard fought blindly, madly, viciously, striking and kicking at random.
Of the three last named but one looked Lanyard's way, O'Reilly, and his gaze, resting transiently on the countenance of Andre Duchemin minus the Duchemin beard, passed on without perceptible glimmer of recognition. Why not? Why should it enter his head that one lived and had anticipated his own arrival in New York by twenty hours whom be believed to be buried many fathoms deep off Nantucket?
Stone had taken up the camera once more. His sole answer was a grunt upon which his hearers placed two distinct interpretations Lanyard's affording him considerable gratification. "If you're ready," said Stone "now" Mr. Blensop squinted unbecomingly and pressed the trigger. A vivid flare lifted from the pan of the pistol, and winked out in a cloud of vapour, slowly dissipating. "Is that all?"
On the seventh day the course pricked on the chart placed the Sybarite's position at noon as approximately in mid-Atlantic. Contemplating a prospect of seven days more of such emptiness, Lanyard's very soul yawned. And nothing could induce Captain Monk to hasten the passage. Mr.
Nevertheless, one cannot well be overcautious when one is a hunted man." "Blensop ... be good enough to see this man out through the garden." "Yes, sir." "Again, monsieur, my thanks." "Good-night," said Stanistreet curtly. Blensop passed Lanyard's chair, unlatched and opened the window and stood aside.
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