"It is
only that which I desire to know. He was such a _beau garcon_, that
young Englishman. You will tell me that?" she whispered.
He shook his head.
"Mademoiselle will excuse me," he said. "I am going to take a carriage
to my hotel!"
"It is on the way to leave me at my rooms, if you will be so kind," she
suggested, laying her hand upon his arm.
"Mademoiselle will excuse me," he answered, turning away. "Good
afternoon."
Mademoiselle also took a carriage, and drove to a large house at the top
of the Champs Elysees. She was at once admitted, and passed with the air
of one familiar with the place into a small room at the back of the
house, where a man was sitting at a table writing. He looked up as she
entered.
"Well?"
She threw herself into a chair.
"I have been following the Englishman, Pelham, all day," she said in
German. "He has seen Miss Poynton. I have talked with him since at a
cafe, but he would tell me nothing. He has evidently been warned."
The man grumbled as he resumed his writing.
"That fact alone should be enough for us," he remarked. "If there is
anything to conceal we can guess what it is.
Pages:
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336