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Updated: June 5, 2025
Norgate's reply, although gallant enough, was a little vague. He was watching Selingman with his companion. They were talking together with undoubted seriousness. "Who is Mr. Selingman?" he enquired. "I know him only as a travelling companion." Mademoiselle Henriette extended her hands. She shrugged her little shoulders and looked with wide-open eyes up into her companion's grave face.
He'll do his best." "He won't succeed," Aaron declared eagerly. "I saw Ernshaw two hours ago. They're on to Peter Dale and his move. Do you know why Peter Dale was late here this afternoon? He'd been to Downing Street. I heard. Foley's lost you, but he's holding on to the Labour Party. He's pitting the Labour Party against you in the country." Selingman laughed heartily.
There was none of the foolish, over-exuberant rejoicing of bibulous jingoism, but a genuine, deep spirit of thankfulness abroad. Men and women were glad but thoughtful. There were new times to come, great promises had been made. There were rumours everywhere of a new political Party. "We pause to-night," Selingman declared, "at the end of the first chapter.
Almost I am tempted to linger in this wonderful country at any rate until the headlines of the next are in type. You go down to the House tonight?" "At nine o'clock," Maraton replied, glancing at the clock. "Will they remember," Selingman continued thoughtfully, "that you were the Samson who pulled down the pillars, or will they merely hail you as the deliverer?
Norgate, conscious of a curious callousness which even he himself found inexplicable, made some conventional reply only. Selingman began to talk of other matters. "Truly," he observed, "a visit to your country is good for the patriotic German.
Here is good work for you to do, friend Meyer. That and the particulars from Brussels which you know of, will keep you busy until we meet again." Herr Selingman began to collect his papers, but was suddenly thrown back into his seat by the rocking of the train, which came, a few moments later, to a standstill.
Grex was the man to pave the way. Well?" "At ten o'clock, Draconmeyer and Selingman arrived. The Villa Mimosa gets more difficult every day. I have only one friend in the house, although it is filled with servants. Three-quarters of them only speak Russian. My man's reliable but he is in a terrible minority. The conference took place in the library. It lasted about an hour and a half.
Tell me, mademoiselle, what do you suppose those two are talking of now? See how close their heads are together. I don't think that Herr Selingman is a Don Juan." "They speak, perhaps, of serious matters," his companion surmised, "but who can tell? Besides, is it for us to waste our few moments wondering? You will come back to Ostend, monsieur?"
If you were my son, or if you had dropped straight down from Heaven with a letter of introduction from the proper quarters, you would still be under my surveillance." "That seems to settle the matter," Norgate confessed, "so I suppose I mustn't grumble. Yours is rather a bloodless philosophy." "Perhaps," Selingman assented. "You see me as I sit here, a merchant of crockery, and I am a kind person.
The whole resources of the establishment are at our disposal. Fresh tins of delicatessen, you perceive. Do not be afraid that you will go-away hungry." "I am more afraid," Norgate grumbled, "that I shall go away sick. However!" "You may be interested to hear," announced Selingman, glancing up, "that our visit is not in vain. You perceive the two men entering? The nearest one is a Bulgarian.
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