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Updated: June 5, 2025
Bertrand de Montville, seated in an easy-chair and propped by cushions, raised his head from time to time and gasped for breath. He held a newspaper in his hand, for sleep was out of the question. He had been suffering severely during the day, but the pain had passed and only weariness remained. His face was yet drawn with the memory of it, and his eyes were heavily shadowed.
"I!" Utter amazement sounded in de Montville's voice. He sat bolt upright for a space of seconds, staring into the impassive British face before him. "But you you joke!" he said at last, his voice very low. "No, I am quite in earnest." Gravely Mordaunt returned his look. "I believe we might pull together very well. Think it over, M. de Montville, and if you feel inclined to give it a trial "
Waiting for her! She smiled piteously in her relief. Bertrand de Montville would be her perfect knight to the last. As they went on down the long corridor she missed the grasp of her husband's fingers, and stopped like a child to slip her hand back into his. He looked down at her gravely, saying nothing. And so they came at last to the door of Bertrand's room.
In my profession there is not much time for sitting still, nor, till lately, have I wanted it. But there comes a time in most men's lives when they feel that they would like to get out of the rash and enjoy a little leisure, take it easy in short, settle down and grow old in comfort." De Montville nodded several times with swift intelligence. "Alors, monsieur contemplates marriage," he said.
Another man's name had begun to be uttered on all sides, in court and out of it, coupled continuously with the name of the man who was standing his trial. Bertrand de Montville, where was he? All France would soon be waiting to do him justice, to pay him high honour, to compensate him for the indignities he had wrongfully suffered.
It is not too much. It's a perfectly fair bargain, and to please me if you like I want you to accept it. You will find there is plenty to do, possibly more than you anticipate. So suppose we consider it settled, eh?" De Montville was silent. "We'll call it done," Mordaunt said. "Have a cigarette!" He held his case in front of the Frenchman, and after a moment de Montville took one.
"Monsieur de Montville!" a quiet voice said. He jerked round, bringing his heels together with instinctive precision. Again, in the glare of the lamp-post their eyes met. "I have not the pleasure," he muttered stiffly. "My name is Mordaunt," the other told him gravely. "You will remember me presently, though not probably by name. Come in out of the rain. It is impossible to talk here."
He drank almost with reverence, and set down his glass with a hand that trembled. Mordaunt got up. "That is settled, then. By the way, the question of salary does not seem to have occurred to you. I don't know if you have any ideas upon the subject. Four hundred pounds per annum is what I thought of offering." "Four hundred pounds!" De Montville stared at him in amazement.
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