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Updated: June 27, 2025
He pointed out, reasonably enough, that she might possess a good deal of valuable information concerning Count Ladislas Vassilan; if, as Curtis believed was the case, she had already retired to rest, she must be aroused. The hour was not so late, and Vassilan's movements in New York might be elucidated by knowledge of his previous career.
"You spoke of Schmidt's clients. Who are they?" He whistled softly when he heard the names of Valletort and Vassilan and de Courtois. "Up to the neck in it again!" he crowed. "Oh, it's me that is the happy youth because I blew in to New York at the right time yesterday." Otto Schmidt's office was in Madison Square, perched high above the clatter of 23d Street.
The Earl of Valletort and Count Ladislas Vassilan were crossing the Atlantic hot in pursuit of the unwilling bride. They arrived in New York to-night, and were so well posted in events, both past and prospective, that they headed straight for the flat in which Lady Hermione was living with her maid.
What had happened was this Lord Valletort's recollection of the physique and manner of Jean de Courtois fitted in so ill with the knock-down blow delivered to a portly individual like Ladislas Vassilan that he began to compare the remarks of the elevator man at 1000 59th Street with the confusion in the clergyman's mind on the question of names.
With him was a foreigner, a most truculent looking person, whose collar, shirt, and waistcoat carried other signs, quite as obvious, but curiously ominous in view of the cause of this gathering in the hall of the hotel. "May I ask who you are, sir?" said Steingall. "I am the Earl of Valletort," said the stranger, "and this is Count Ladislas Vassilan." "Ah! Count Vassilan is not an Englishman?"
"Ah, cré nom d'un nom! I haf to go, queek!" "Where to?" "No mattaire. I tank you all to-morrow. I explain eferyting den. Now, I go." "You had better stay where you are, Monsieur de Courtois," said Steingall in French. "Milord Valletort and Count Vassilan have arrived. I have seen them, and nothing more can be done with respect to their affair tonight.
Now, before I was aware that such a winsome creature existed as the present Lady Hermione Curtis, I had estimated the murderers as Hungarians, two of them at any rate, since I am hardly prepared to vouch for the chauffeur. Count Ladislas Vassilan is a Hungarian. The poor fellow who was killed, though his name is American enough, spoke French with a pure accent.
"My daughter's actions will be revealed in detail to a judge," he said loftily. "At present I fail to see what bearing they have on the discussion, unless, indeed, you mean to arrest Curtis immediately on a charge which I am prepared to formulate." "No, that is not why I requested your lordship and Count Vassilan to come here this morning," said Steingall, gazing anxiously at the clock.
If I have got the story right, Count Ladislas Vassilan only landed in New York to-night. Did he drive straight to a boxing contest, or what?" "Wait a second, Clancy," interrupted Steingall. "Is there anything doing? How much time have we?" "Exactly twenty minutes. At twelve-thirty I must be in East Broadway." "Good. Now, Mr.
"It is evident," he went on, "that they procured the minister's address from the elevator man at your dwelling." "Ah, that Rafferty! Wait till I see him," broke in Marcelle. "Please do not scarify Rafferty, if that is his name. I am much more to be blamed than he, because I assured your mistress that the Earl and Count Vassilan were safe on board the Switzerland till the morning.
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