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The Son of Clemenceau by Alexandre Dumas fils
page 63 of 244 (25%)
There are troublous times when an unscrupulous and ambitious soldier may
make his mark and carve a good slice out of the great, rich cake called
Europe. Aid me, and I will aid you. Yes, Herr Major, it is one potentate
speaking with another," the singular woman went on with sinister pride,
and trying to draw her shrunken form into straightness; "I rule an army
of my own, camped by cohorts in the capitals of Europe--dating farther
back than your own, and, perhaps, as formidable. It is we who spy out
the weak spots in great cities. The next time, we shall swarm into the
doomed city in a mass and we shall devour its wealth and luxuries until
we are gorged. But for the day, it will be glut enough for me to have
the life's blood of this man. You cannot honor him with single combat,
it appears. Then, let me propose another mode to finish him."

The major was silent. Standing high in the ranks of the police, he was
not sure how closely he might ally himself with this avowed leader of
the evil-doers, who announced the pillage of a metropolis. She took his
silence for consent or approval, for she jauntily continued:

"The house-maid has told me all they are hatching. They have a chaise
always ready and passports to mask the departure of the young man as a
clerk going abroad. But for precaution, they will not have him go to the
train at the depot; he might be questioned and the discrepancies in the
passport be perceived. The chaise is to convey him down the line, and he
will get on the cars at a rural depot where the gendarme and
ticket-seller will be dull and easily hoodwinked."

"Very neat," said Von Sendlingen, appreciating the plan at its due
value. "I always said old Daniels was no fool."

"What more easy than to post a couple of the horse patrol on the
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