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The Bradys and the Girl Smuggler - or, Working for the Custom House by Francis Worcester Doughty
page 93 of 155 (60%)
She glanced at it, said something to the man, and while he hastened away,
she resumed her supper in a leisurely manner.

There were many fashionable guests in the room.

In a few moments Harry saw her father approach her smilingly, and sit down
at the same table with her.

"Now is my time to nab him!" muttered Harry.

He ran into the hotel without ceremony, and making his way to the door of
the dining-room, he paid no heed to the servants who offered to take his
hat, mackintosh and umbrella.

In he dashed, his queer actions causing the guests to look up at him in
astonishment, and he headed for La Croix.

The Frenchman had a big carving knife in his hand with which he was going
to cut a steak instead of allowing the waiter to do it.

Harry's hand fell upon his shoulder.

"La Croix, you are my prisoner!" he exclaimed.

A hoarse cry escaped the smuggler and he became excited as he noticed that
most every one in the room overheard the remark.

Clara gave a suppressed shriek and sprang to her feet.

Quick to recover his composure the Frenchman put on his eyeglasses, stared
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