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Updated: June 19, 2025
The man placed the fruit dish on the table before retiring. Perenna, who was noticing everything, and who was afterward to remember every smallest detail of that evening, which his memory recorded with a sort of mechanical faithfulness, counted three pears and four apples in the dish.
"Then become Lupin again, the invisible, impregnable Lupin, and do your own fighting, as you used to. But in Heaven's name don't remain Perenna! It is too dangerous. And don't occupy yourself officially with a business in which you are not interested." "The things you say, Alexandre! I am interested in it to the tune of a hundred millions.
"Oh, Monsieur le Préfet!" said Don Luis, modestly protesting. "Yes, I know, you are in the habit of doing that sort of thing. All the same, you must accept my thanks." And the Prefect of Police made a bow such as he would really have made to Don Luis Perenna, the Spanish noble, the hero of the Foreign Legion.
"Well, no," said Perenna, with a laugh. "There are things which one can't refuse."
So, upon the death of Hippolyte Fauville and his son Edmond, the direct descendants of the eldest sister, Cosmo Mornington's inheritance passed to the other branch, that of Armande Roussel; and this branch was represented so far by Mme. Fauville! The Prefect of Police and the examining magistrate exchanged glances and both instinctively turned toward Don Luis Perenna, who did not move a muscle.
Perenna took advantage of this to insist; and he insisted to such good purpose that Fauville, though without withdrawing from his reserve, ended by yielding before a will that was stronger than his own. "Well, but you surely don't intend to spend the night in here?" "We do indeed." "Why, it's ridiculous! It's sheer waste of time!
The plan succeeded. "There was only one hitch at the present time: the intervention of Inspector Vérot. Inspector Vérot died. And there was only one danger in the future: the intervention of myself, Don Luis Perenna, whose conduct Vernocq was bound to foresee, as I was the residuary legatee by the terms of Cosmo Mornington's will.
"The low hound!" muttered Don Luis. "What do you say to that, Sergeant?" Sergeant Mazeroux was looking at him in stupefaction, with his eyes starting from his head. "Well, but, Monsieur " "What, Sergeant?" "Well, but, Monsieur, who are you?" "Who am I?" "Yes." "Didn't they tell you? A Peruvian nobleman, or a Spanish nobleman, I don't know which. In short, Don Luis Perenna." "Bunkum!
At the second encounter, the editor of the Echo de France fell, wounded in the chest. "Oh, that's too bad of you, Perenna!" growled the Comte d'Astrignac. "You promised me " "And I've kept my promise, Major." The doctors were examining the injured man. Presently one of them rose and said: "It's nothing. Three weeks' rest, at most. Only a third of an inch more, and he would have been done for."
He was acting at haphazard, tossed about in turns by the most diverse passions, a prey to that inordinate love which impels us as readily to kill the object of our affections as to die in an attempt to save her. A newsboy passed with a special edition of the Paris-Midi, showing in great black letters: "SENSATIONAL DECLARATION BY DON LUIS PERENNA "Yes, yes," he said aloud.
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