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Updated: June 28, 2025
When the Comte and Comtesse du Nord were presented the Queen was exceedingly nervous.
He could readily drop out at his destination, and bid the driver continue to the Gare du Nord; and the Metro was neither quick nor direct enough for his design which included getting under cover well before daybreak. Somewhat sulkily, then, if without betraying his temper, he signalled the cocher, opened the door, and handed the girl in. "If you don't mind dropping me en route..."
"Did you ever hear that about ten years ago I lost a great quantity of jewels, that they were stolen out of a train at the Gare du Nord in Paris?" A look of fear, almost of horror, came into Beryl Van Tuyn's eyes. She got up from the sofa on which she was sitting. "Adela!" Already she knew what was coming, what Lady Sellingworth was going to tell her.
"They were stolen in Paris at the Gare du Nord out of a first-class compartment reserved for Adela Sellingworth. That much came out through her maid." "And nothing was done?" "I believe not. Adela Sellingworth is said to have behaved most fatalistically when the story came out. She said the jewels were gone long ago, and there was an end of it, and that she couldn't be bothered."
The darkness around him grew darker yet, and not a hope seemed left; when as by miracle the clouds broke, and light streamed out of the blackness. The bitterest of his foes, the Czarina Elizabeth, she whom he had called infâme catin du Nord, died, and was succeeded by her nephew, Peter III. Here again, as in England and Spain, a new sovereign brought new measures.
It rained as I drove from the Gare du Nord to my hotel. It rained all night. It rained all the day I spent there and it rained as I drove from my hotel to the Gare de Lyon. A cheery newspaper informed me that there were torrential rains at Marseilles. I mentioned this to Rogers, who tried to console me by reminding me that we were only staying at Marseilles for a few hours.
Sharp, the newly appointed Ambassador, might be utilized for this purpose. A convoy of one hundred and forty British soldiers, wounded in the recent fighting in the Aisne Department, arrived at nine o'clock this morning at the Gare du Nord. Most of them were shot in the legs and arms, but in spite of their sufferings, none of them showed the least sign of being broken in spirit.
"I guess it must be a steel wire," said Petter Nord. "By the string I mean justice," said Long-Petter with deep seriousness. "If there is no justice on earth, everything falls into the fire. Therefore the avenger may not refuse to punish, or if he will not do it, others must." "This is the last time I will offer any of you any grog," said Petter Nord, quite unmoved by the speech.
The Paris telegram went on to say that the gentleman had told the manager his luggage was following from the Gare du Nord, and that his wife and himself were going out for half an hour, but would return in time to dress for dinner. When his traps arrived they were to be taken to his room. No luggage ever came, nor was either of the pair seen again; but we will lay hands on them, never fear."
Then we are in the motor again, bound for an aerodrome forty or fifty miles away. We are late, and the last twenty-seven kilometres fly by in thirty-two minutes! It is a rolling country, and there are steep descents and sharp climbs, through the thickly-scattered and characteristic villages and small old towns of the Nord, villages crowded all of them with our men.
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