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Updated: June 8, 2025
The name seemed terrible; she turned pale, but he hurried on, losing himself again in his excitement, and with all his haggard features working: "Yes, yes, I know what you will say, but do you not understand that if this is what I believe, anything will be forgiven to the man who can put the sergent de ville on the track?" "If!
Then, perhaps, a regiment marches past with colors flying and trumpets braying; or a fantastic-looking funeral goes by, with a hearse like a four-post bed hung with black velvet and silver; or the peripatetic showman with his company of white rats establishes himself on the pavement opposite, till admonished to move on by the sergent de ville. What an ever-shifting panorama!
"Diable!" said the sergent de ville, stroking his moustache, and staring fiercely about him. "Did no one see him go?" There was a chorus of exclamations a rush to the inner salon to the door to the street. But the stranger was nowhere in sight; and, which was still more incomprehensible, no one had seen him go!
For the present, however, Lanyard wasn't taking any. He met that challenge with a look of utter stupidity, folded his arms, lounged against the desk, and watched Madame Omber acknowledge, none too cordially, the other sergent's query. "I am Madame Omber yes. What can I do for you?" The sergent gaped. "Pardon!" he stammered, then laughed as one who tardily appreciates a joke.
"It is well we are arrived in time, madame," he added "though it would seem you have not had great trouble with this miscreant. Where is the woman?" He moved a pace toward Lanyard: hand-cuffs jingled in his grasp. "But a moment!" madame interposed. "Woman? What woman?" Pausing, the older sergent explained in a tone of surprise: "But his accomplice, naturally!
'Parbleu! Poor devils on the lookout for such work are as plentiful all along the South American coast as commissionaires on the street corners here. The ferryman was evidently surprised at the fascination possessed by this infamous topic for so lady-like a person; but having, as you see, a very ready tongue, it is probable that his delight in being able to give her information and hear himself talk were still greater. 'And then down there, he went on, 'they never forget a grudge. If a fellow doesn't serve you one day, he'll do it another. A Spaniard's hatred is like lost sleep you can put it off for a time, but it will gripe you in the end. The rascals always keep their promises to themselves.... An enemy on shipboard is jolly fun. It's like bulls tethered in the same field. You can't stand still half a minute except against a wall. Even when he makes friends with you, his favors never taste right. Messing with him is like drinking out of a pewter mug. And so it is everywhere. Let your shadow once flit across a Spaniard's path, and he'll always see it there. If you've never lived in any but these damned clockworky European towns, you can't imagine the state of things in a South American seaport one half the population waiting round the corner for the other half. But I don't see that it's so much better here, where every man's a spy on every other. There you meet an assassin at every turn, here a sergent de ville..... At all events, the life l
Cruising about the country also was another Jacobite soldier, 'the Sergent More, a Cameron, later betrayed by , of , who robbed the Prince's hoard of gold. But the Sergeant More had nothing to do, as has been fancied, with the murder of Glenure.
Such were our instructions to proceed at once to madame's hotel, come in quietly by the servants' entrance which would be open and arrest a burglar with his female accomplice." Again the stout sergent moved toward Lanyard; again Madame Omber stopped him. "But one moment more, if you please!"
A sergent de ville who was slowly pacing up and down in front of an empty sentry-box, his two hands ensconced in the sleeves of his coat, the hood of which he had turned up, cast a sidelong glance at him, almost suspiciously, as if wondering what a prowler could want to do there, at such an hour. "He does not know whom he has looked at," he said.
"No sarcasm, if you please; not everybody can share your taste for princesses, who make you go a hundred leagues to follow them and then upon your arrival, only give you the tip of a glove to kiss. Such intrigues are not to my fancy. Je suis sergent, Brave " "Again, I say, will you stop that noise?
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