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Updated: June 10, 2025
"The daughter is divine," affirmed Muscari, "the father and son are, I suppose, human. But granted his harmless qualities doesn't that banker strike you as a splendid instance of my argument? Harrogate has millions in his safes, and I have the hole in my pocket. But you daren't say you can't say that he's cleverer than I, or bolder than I, or even more energetic.
"In short," said Muscari, "to the real Paradise of Thieves." THREE The Duel of Dr Hirsch M. MAURICE BRUN and M. Armand Armagnac were crossing the sunlit Champs Elysee with a kind of vivacious respectability. They were both short, brisk and bold. They both had black beards that did not seem to belong to their faces, after the strange French fashion which makes real hair look like artificial.
Muscari threw back his black mane. "I know it is dangerous:" he said. "I am crossing it tomorrow." The young Harrogate was left behind for a moment emptying a glass of white wine and lighting a cigarette, as the beauty retired with the banker, the courier and the poet, distributing peals of silvery satire.
"Nothing is coming up the road," argued Muscari, "except the rescue." "Well, you go over there," said his adviser, "and be ready to rescue her from the rescue." Almost as he spoke the hedges were broken all along the ridge by a rush of the escaping brigands.
It was just enough to alter the equilibrium; the whole coach heeled over like a ship and crashed through the fringe of bushes over the cliff. Muscari threw an arm round Ethel, who clung to him, and shouted aloud. It was for such moments that he lived.
Looking around him at the confused and startled group in the hollow, Muscari then perceived that another tanned and tattered man, with a short gun under his arm, was looking at them from the ledge just below, leaning his elbows on the edge of the turf.
I need not expound the quaint old ritual of ransom, which it is incumbent upon me to keep up; and even this only applies to a part of the company. The Reverend Father Brown and the celebrated Signor Muscari I shall release tomorrow at dawn and escort to my outposts. Poets and priests, if you will pardon my simplicity of speech, never have any money.
In the first flash it looked as wild as suicide; but in the second it was as sensible as a safe investment. The Yorkshireman had evidently more promptitude, as well as more sagacity, than Muscari had given him credit for; for he landed in a lap of land which might have been specially padded with turf and clover to receive him.
Then he looked up at the road from which they had fallen and saw, looking down on them, the muzzles of four other carbines and four other brown faces with bright but quite motionless eyes. "The brigands!" cried Muscari, with a kind of monstrous gaiety. "This was a trap. Ezza, if you will oblige me by shooting the coachman first, we can cut our way out yet. There are only six of them."
Men who see the short cut to good living will never go by the new elaborate roads." "Well, to me Marconi, or D'Annunzio, is the star of Italy" said the other. "That is why I have become a Futurist and a courier." "A courier!" cried Muscari, laughing. "Is that the last of your list of trades? And whom are you conducting?" "Oh, a man of the name of Harrogate, and his family, I believe."
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