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Updated: June 22, 2025
"Why should Fitzroy scowl at the recollection of Count Edouard?" demanded Mrs. Devar, her eyes devouring the telltale blush that suffused the girl's face and neck. "Only because the Count wished to supplant him as our chauffeur," came the ready answer. "I thought Monsieur Marigny's offer a very courteous one." "Undoubtedly.
No matter what the hidden reason that inspired Marigny's pen, it was enough for Medenham to know that at last that arch-plotter and very perfect rascal was within his reach. He breakfasted in a fury of haste, crammed on a hat, and rushed away, meaning to drive in a cab to the hotel in Northumberland Avenue from which Marigny wrote.
Devar wasn't waiting for me," whispered Cynthia, whose mental attitude during this mishap on the Wye contrasted strangely with her alarm when Marigny's motor collapsed on the Mendips. "Mrs. Devar is the real problem," laughed Medenham. "We must find some means of soothing her agitation." "Why don't you like her?" "That is one of the things I wish to explain later."
Greatly as he despised this man, Medenham could not wholly conceal the wonder that leaped to his eyes. "Are you suggesting that we should fight a duel?" he asked, smiling with incredulity, yet constrained to believe that Marigny was really speaking in cold blood. "Yes oh, yes. A duel no make-believe!" A curious change came into Marigny's voice at that instant.
"If you dare to open your mouth in Miss Vanrenen's presence, other than by way of some commonplace remark, I shall forthwith smash your face to a jelly," he said. A queer shiver ran through the Frenchman's body, but Medenham did not commit the error of imagining that his adversary was afraid. His grip on Marigny's shoulder tightened.
Devar's cramped handwriting might have concealed some secret of gravest import to each person present. It was not really so thrilling when heard. "That is 'Raven, plain enough I should think," she snapped. "Thank you, mum. 'The Raven, Shrewsbury," read the hall-porter. Medenham caught Marigny's eye. He was minded to laugh outright, but forebore.
"Unless you wish to wreck your car you will not attempt to follow him." With that he bent over the head lamps, and their radiance fell unexpectedly on Marigny's scowling face, since the discomfited adventurer could no longer pretend to ignore the Englishman's menace. Still, he was powerless.
Dale was a model of sobriety, but the excitement of "fives" when he looked for "threes" was too much for him. "I'll tank him all right, my l , I mean, sir," he vowed cheerfully. Medenham lit a new cigarette and strolled out of the yard. From the corner of his eye he saw Marigny's helper looking at him.
It is ever the ear that needs training more than the tongue, and in all likelihood he would not have caught the exact meaning of the words were it not for the hap of recent familiarity with the accents of all sorts and conditions of French-speaking folk. "Jimmy Devar!" he breathed, and his amazement lost him Marigny's muttered answer.
There's a bad bit of road over the Mendips, but the rest is fine. I s'pose we'll all be hiking back there to-night?" "Most probably," agreed Medenham, who said least when he was most disturbed; at that moment he could cheerfully have wrung Count Edouard Marigny's neck. It is a contrariety of human nature that men devoted to venturesome forms of sport should often be tender-hearted as children.
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