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Updated: May 13, 2025
He had the tubes in his luggage, and one box of them he took that morning to Commandant Marnier at his office on the left bank of the river with the letter which gave warning of their arrival. "You see what the letter says," Hillyard explained. "These tubes have been very successful in France."
"After a bain de siege we both longed for total immersion and some weak tea, in which I mingled a spoonful of rum, we felt better, but we reposed till dinner, and once again Marnier, in his habitually restrained and critical manner, discussed contemporary literature, and what Plato and Aristotle, judging by; their writings, would have been likely to think of it.
He looked at Aaron's comely, wine-warmed face with gratification. "Have a Grand Marnier," he said. "I don't know how bad it is. Everything is bad now. They lay it down to the war as well. It used to be quite a decent drink. What the war had got to do with bad liqueurs, I don't know." Aaron sat down in a chair at their table. "But let us introduce ourselves," said Francis.
The more curious might, perhaps, if the youth were in mufti, cast a downward glance at the boots; but even boots were ceasing to be the sure tell-tale they once used to be. This man descending the stairs with a limp was the Commandant Marnier, of the 193rd Regiment, wounded in 1915, and now attached to the General Staff.
When first I came here it used to mount to my head like wine. "'Bad for you, Marnier! I said, laughing. "Then I added, to the aumônier: "'My friend never drinks wine, and so ought to be peculiarly susceptible to such an influence."
Marnier had the key to the stables, and they saddled the two horses and rode through the blind and silent streets with their faces muffled in their cloaks. They met no one, however, until they were come to the outskirts of the town. But then as they passed the mouth of an alley a man came suddenly out and as suddenly drew back. The morning was chill, and the man was closely wrapped.
He turned to Madame Lamotte and said: "I've been dining here." Really! If she had only known! There were dishes she could have recommended; what a pity! Soames was confirmed in his suspicion. 'I must look out what I'm doing! he thought sharply. "Another little cup of very special coffee, monsieur; a liqueur, Grand Marnier?" and Madame Lamotte rose to order these delicacies.
Marnier, by the way, intended to take orders. "Now, this sort of young man is not precisely my sort, and especially not my sort in the Sahara Desert. But I did not want to be rude to Marnier, who was friendly and agreeable, and obviously anxious to increase his already considerable store of knowledge. So I put my inclinations in my pocket, and, with inward reluctance, I agreed.
He sat down and wrote a short letter and sealed it up. "Marnier," he called out in a low voice, and his servant came from the adjoining room, "take this to Mr. Edgar, the King's secretary, as soon as it grows dusk. Have a care that no one sees you deliver it. Lock the parlour door when you go, and take the key. I am not yet back from Rome."
"As we stepped out into the market Marnier paused to light his pipe. But suddenly he threw away the match he had struck. "'No, it's a sin to smoke in this air, he said. "And he drew a deep breath, looking at the round moon. "The priest smiled. "'I have lived here for four years, he said, 'and cannot resist my cigar. But you are right. The air of Beni-Kouidar is extraordinary.
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