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Updated: June 26, 2025
"If he is up playing golf at La Turbie," Hunterleys muttered, "we shall barely have time." A reception clerk tapped him on the shoulder. He turned abruptly around. "I have just made an enquiry of the floor waiter," the clerk announced. "He believes that Mr. Lane is still in his room." Hunterleys thanked the man and hurried to the lift. In a few moments he was knocking at the door of Lane's rooms.
The flavour of the mountain snows gave life to the breeze. Hunterleys buttoned up his coat but bared his head. "My young friend," he said, "this is wonderful." "It's a great climb," Richard assented, "and doesn't she just eat it up!" They paused for a moment at La Turbie.
He had, therefore, to set to work and hunt through all the hotels and lodging-houses in the principality. Oh, the time wasted! By the following evening, Lupin knew, beyond a doubt, that Daubrecq and Clarisse were not at Monte Carlo, nor at Monaco, nor at the Cap d'Ail, nor at La Turbie, nor at Cap Martin. "Where can they be then?" he wondered, trembling with rage.
As often as I could I crept out to look at the flower fêtes in the streets, or to climb the hill of La Turbie and think I was on my native rocks with Martin Conrad, or even to sit in my room and watch the poor wounded pigeons from the pigeon-traps as they tumbled and ducked into the sea after the shots fired, by cruel and unsportsmanlike sportsmen, from the rifle-range below.
Julie turned and walked straight down to the Condamine, forgetting that her shoes were tight. Rosemary chose the toys for the children of the rock village, and then the "picnic" began. The car whizzed them up the zigzag road to La Turbie, while the noon sunshine still gilded Caesar's Trophy.
Day after day passed, and I remained at the Paris, but no word came from him or from Sir Charles, for the matter of that. Pierrette's ardour for motoring seemed to have now cooled; for, beyond a run to St. Raphael one morning, and another to Castellane, she had each day other engagements luncheon up at La Turbie, tea with Sir Charles at Rumpelmeyer's, or at Vogarde's.
"Cheero!" he exclaimed, on being shown into Hunterleys' sitting-room. "All right up to date, I see." Hunterleys nodded. He had just come in from the bank and held his letters in his hand. Richard seated himself on the edge of the table. "I slept out on the yacht last night," he said. "Got up at six o'clock and had a swim. What about a round of golf at La Turbie?
There was just a slight mist around them, but the whole country below, though chaotic, was visible, and the lights on the hill-side, from La Turbie down to the sea-board, were in plain sight. "Our troubles," Hunterleys remarked, as they glided off, "seem to be over." "Maybe," Lane replied grimly. "Mine seem to be only just beginning!"
He looked steadfastly at Selingman. "Who are you?" he muttered. "The wolves sleep in the daytime," Selingman replied. The dancer shrugged his shoulders. He held out his glass to be replenished. The double password had reassured him. "Pardon, monsieur," he said, "these have been anxious hours." "The little affair at La Turbie?" Selingman suggested.
Still Vanno was happy, as he had not been since he saw Mary dining alone in the restaurant of the Hôtel de Paris. He had made a plan for the next hours, which gave him hope for the future. After breakfast, he walked into the gray and ancient mountain-village of La Turbie, whose old houses and walls of tunnelled streets were built from the wreckage of Cæsar's Trophy.
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