The Lost Ambassador - The Search For The Missing Delora by E. Phillips (Edward Phillips) Oppenheim
page 64 of 356 (17%)
page 64 of 356 (17%)
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arm.
"It is he--Bartot!" she cried. "He is here at the private entrance. Some one has told him that I am here. Mon Dieu! It is he outside now!" It was bad acting, and I laughed. "Mademoiselle," I said, "if Monsieur Bartot is your lover, be thankful that you have nothing with which to reproach yourself." I rang the bell. She looked at me for a moment with eyes filled with a genuine fear. Obviously she did not understand my attitude. From my trousers pocket I drew a little revolver, whose settings and mechanism I carefully examined. There was a loud knock at the door and the sound of voices outside. Monsieur Bartot entered, in a frock-coat too small for him and a tie too large. When he saw us he fell back with a theatrical start. "Susette!" he exclaimed. "Susette! And you, sir!" he added, turning to me. He slammed the door and stood with his back to it. "What the devil is the meaning of this?" he asked, looking from one to the other of us. I shrugged my shoulders. "You had better ask mademoiselle," I answered. |
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