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Updated: June 9, 2025
Why don't you turn up the light?" "I don't know," Julian answered, drily. Doctor Levillier saw that anxiety was beginning to unnerve him. When the glass was found the doctor led Julian back to the tentroom and pushed him gently down in a chair. "Keep quiet," he said. "And keep hoping." "There is there is hope?" "Why not?" Then the doctor held the little glass to Valentine's lips.
They found no trace of any alien presence in the flat. No book, no ornament, had been moved. No door stood open. There was no sound of any footsteps except their own. When they came to Valentine's bedroom, Rip leaped to greet them, and seemed in excellent spirits. He showed no excitement until he had followed them back into the tentroom.
Rip still whimpered, rather feebly. His excitement was evidently dying away. At last Valentine shut the door, and they went back again to the tentroom, accompanied closely by the dog, who gradually regained his calmness, and who presently jumped of his own accord into his basket, and, after turning quickly round some half-dozen times, composed himself once more to sleep.
On my arrival at Malmaison I was ushered into the tentroom leading to the library. How I was astonished at the good-natured familiarity with which he received me! This extraordinary man displayed, if I may employ the term, a coquetry towards me which surprised me, notwithstanding my past knowledge of his character.
"Then you should not drink black coffee." As he spoke a very faint sound of bells penetrated to the tentroom. "The psychological moment!" said Valentine. And then they were all silent, listening. To the doctor, the prey of magic art since the soft cry of the lady of the feathers, the bells seemed magical and strange to-night, thin and dreamy and remote.
The lady of the feathers, your friend, my enemy, shall see the new year in here, in this tentroom, where long ago we you and I with how ill success, sought to exchange our souls." Julian looked utterly astonished at this proposition. "Cuckoo wouldn't come here," he began. "So you said once before. But she came then, and she will come now." "And then the doctor! If he gets to hear of it!
In the corners of the room were immense red flowers, such as hang among the crawling green jungles of the West Indies. They gleamed, like flames, amid a shower of cunningly arranged green leaves, and palms sheltered them from the electric rays of the ceiling. The tentroom was a maze of tulips, in vases, in pots, in china bowls that hung by thin chains from the sloping green roof.
"Yes; I vote we do." Valentine let his friend out. As he shut the front door, he said to himself: "I am positive I did draw the curtain thoroughly." He went back into the tentroom and glanced again at the curtain. "Yes; I am positive." After an instant of puzzled wonder, he seemed to put the matter deliberately from him. "Come along, Rip," he said. "Why, you are cold and miserable to-night!
In the hall of the flat was a handle which, when turned in a certain direction, communicated with one of those wooden and glass hutches in which sleepy boy-messengers harbour at night. Julian sprang to this handle, set the communicator in motion, then ran back into the tentroom. His intention was to write a note to Dr. Levillier.
He did not put holly rigidly above his doors. No mistletoe drooped from the apex of the tentroom. Instead, he filled his flat with flowers, brought from English conservatories or from abroad. Crowds of strange and spotted orchids stood together in the drawing-room, staring upon the hurly-burly of furniture and ornaments.
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