"
The woman wrote steadily for a moment. Then she blotted the page on
which she had been writing, and raising her head, looked at him.
"It is no affair of mine," she said, "but Monsieur Albert has sent for
the police. They may say that you have had too much wine, or that you
owe money. In either case you will be removed. The police will not
listen to you. Monsieur Albert has special discretion. It is no affair
of mine," she repeated, "but if I were Monsieur I would go."
Duncombe rose slowly to his feet, and summoning a waiter paid his bill.
The man produced a second one, dated a few days back, for a large
amount.
"What is the meaning of this?" he asked. "I do not owe you anything."
"Monsieur was here with a party last Thursday night," he said glibly.
"He promised to pay the next time. I will call the manager."
Duncombe tore the bill in half and turned away. He bowed to the lady at
the desk.
"I see that you were right," he said. "I will leave."
"Monsieur is wise," she answered without looking up.
He left the cafe without speaking to any one further. When he reached
the pavement he slipped a five-franc piece into the hand of the tall
commissionaire.
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