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Updated: July 5, 2025
As for de Montville, he went slowly across to the window and, leaning against the sash, gazed down upon the empty street. Not until he heard Mordaunt's step outside more than half an hour later did he move, and then very abruptly he returned to the writing-table and seized the pen anew. He was writing with feverish rapidity when Mordaunt entered.
"I wish that you would call me Bertrand," de Montville broke in unexpectedly. "It would be more convenient. My name is known in England, and I do not like publicity. As for your so generous suggestion, monsieur, I have no words. I am your debtor in all things. I know well that it is of my welfare that you think. For myself I do not need to consider for a moment.
Mordaunt laughed a little. "Exactly, mon ami, and that speedily." He broke off at the entrance of his servant, and for the next few seconds busied himself with the mixing of drinks. De Montville continued to watch him with keen interest. As Mordaunt handed him his glass he clutched the sofa-head and stood up.
"What do you want to go in there for? The room is mine." "And you are entertaining a friend there, monsieur." The Frenchman still spoke suavely; he even smiled an answering smile. "That is so," Max said. "Do you know his name?" "It is Bertrand de Montville." There was no hesitation in the reply. He looked as if he expected the Englishman to move aside, as he made it. But Max stood his ground.
"Oh, don't!" said Chris, and snatched it from him. When Max came back she was standing by the window, still fumbling at her glove, with her back turned, while her fiancé leaned against the mantelpiece, finishing his cigarette. Wearily Bertrand de Montville turned his head upon the sofa-cushion, and opened his heavy eyes.
"And you think he will not do that?" "On the contrary," said Max, "I think he will if I am with him to keep him going." He spoke with true British doggedness, and a gleam of humour crossed the Frenchman's face. He made a brief bow. "M. de Montville is fortunate to possess such a friend," he said. The corner of Max's mouth went down.
He had assumed this tone of authority from the outset, and de Montville had submitted, in the first place because he was too ill to do otherwise, and later because, somewhat to his surprise, he found himself impelled thereto by his own inclination. It did not in any fashion wound his pride, this kindly mastery. He wondered at himself for tolerating it, and yet he offered no resistance.
Trevor Trevor, you are hurting me!" His hold relaxed, but he did not set her free. "Was that duel fought on your account?" he asked. "Yes," she whispered. "In what way?" She was silent. "Answer me," he said. She clenched her hands in sudden, strenuous rebellion. "I don't know. I never heard." "Was it because you had compromised yourself with Bertrand de Montville?"
The other affaire is too recent." Mordaunt agreed as to the likelihood of this, but he did not find it particularly consolatory. He had seen the prisoner's face as he was guarded through the surging, hostile crowd; and he knew that for Bertrand de Montville the heavens had fallen. An innocent man had been found guilty, and that was the end.
Regaining the train, Montville is soon reached and visited, and after this, if time sufficient Boonville, two miles west, may be taken in, or it may be necessary to go there to catch a return train, as but few stop at Montville.
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