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Updated: June 6, 2025
I knew your voice was familiar to me; certainly it does remind me of Lebeau's." "Normans are like each other in many things besides voice and accent obstinacy, for instance, in clinging to ideas once formed; this makes them good friends and steadfast enemies. I would advise no man to make an enemy of Lebeau. "Au revoir, cher confrere. Do not forget to present me to Mademoiselle Cicogna."
Is M. Georges one of those agitators below the surface?" "No, indeed. It is for you to play." Here M. Georges arrived, and no further conversation on political or social questions ensued. Graham had already called more than once at M. Lebeau's office, and asked him to put into good French various letters on matters of business, the subjects of which had been furnished by M. Renard.
All these denizens of a higher world were introduced by a saturnine clerk into M. Lebeau's reception-room, very quickly and in precedence of the ouvriers and grisettes. "What can this mean?" thought Graham; "is it really that this humble business avowed is the cloak to some political conspiracy concealed, the International Association?"
Arrived at the Boulevard Sebastopol, he drew up the collar of the cloak so as to conceal much of his face, stopped the driver, paid him quickly, and, bag in hand, hurried on to another stand of fiacres at a little distance, entered one, drove to the Faubourg Montmartre, dismissed the vehicle at the mouth of a street not far from M. Lebeau's office, and gained on foot the private side-door of the house, let himself in with his latchkey, entered the private room on the inner side of his office, locked the door, and proceeded leisurely to exchange the brilliant appearance which the Vicomte de Mauleon had borne on his visit to the millionaire for the sober raiment and bourgeois air of M. Lebeau, the letter-writer.
All these denizens of a higher world were introduced by a saturnine clerk into M. Lebeau's reception-room, very quickly and in precedence of the ouvriers and grisettes. "What can this mean?" thought Graham; "is it really that this humble business avowed is the cloak to some political conspiracy concealed, the International Association?"
On ahead some two hundred metres farther Yvonne Lebeau's little figure, with her ragged skirt pulled over her head and her bare feet pattering in the mud, was seen crossing one of those intermittent patches of light formed by occasional flickering street lamps, and then was swallowed up once more by the inky blackness beyond.
Is M. Georges one of those agitators below the surface?" "No, indeed. It is for you to play." Here M. Georges arrived, and no further conversation on political or social questions ensued. Graham had already called more than once at M. Lebeau's office, and asked him to put into good French various letters on matters of business, the subjects of which had been furnished by M. Renard.
M. Lebeau he had never seen since the day he had brought him the list of contributors, and was then referred to the publisher, whom he supposed M. Lebeau had secured, and received the first quarter of his salary in advance. The salary was a trifle compared to the extra profits thus generously volunteered. He called at Lebeau's office, and saw only the clerk, who said that his chef was abroad.
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