The Argosy — page 390: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

372 In a Dangerous Strait. within prison walls—as our friend here would have done, but for his timely trip across the Channel.” De Sanzac laughed and filled his glass. ‘You see what a dangerous character you have for a neighbour, M. Haviland,” he remarked lightly. “We make no stranger of you,” he added, in a curious tone; “we know that you will not betray us.” ‘Oh, there is no fear of that,” de Fontenay said quietly, and changed the subject. In spite of the. host’s geniality and the conversational powers of one of the guests, the dinner was not a success. Gilbert felt un- accountably constrained and ill-at-ease, and it was a relief to him when they adjourned for cigars to the study. The latter apartment had been built by the present tenant, and was connected with the other part of the house by a long corridor with a padded door at each end. It was a spacious but somewhat gloomy room, lined on three sides with bookshelves ; it had heavy oak furniture, a wide open fire-place, and an elaborately carved chimney-piece. In a recess at one end stood an exquisite statue of Psyche, a copy from the antique; its marble whiteness gleaming coldly against the dark background. After the warm and brilliant dining-room the place looked chill and sombre, lighted only by a shaded lamp on the reading-table, which cast a bright circle of radiance on the scattered books and papers, leaving the corners of the room in shadowy obscurity. The discreet Luigi brought in a tray containing coffee, cognac and liqueurs, placed another log of wood on the hearth (M. de Fon- tenay abjured both coal and gas) and retired noiselessly as he had . come. “That fellow comes and goes like a ghost,” observed de Sanzac, as he rolled a fresh cigarette. “Or like a spy,” growled Docquois, giving his coffee a liberal “ bracing ” of cognac. “I don’t like your model valet, de Fontenay. He is too sly and cat-footed for me.” “Luigi? Oh, he is an excellent fellow, and the best servant in the world. But he has a trick of leaving the door open. Vicomte, will you oblige me by seeing if it is shut ?” De Sanzac glanced at him, then smiled and crossed the room to the door, which was screened by a tapestry fortiere. Gilbert fancied—it could only have been fancy—that he heard the click of a key in the lock as the young Frenchman put his hand under the curtain. “ All right,” he said jauntily, coming back with his hands in his pockets, ‘We can talk secrets without danger of eaves-droppers.” “Oh, we are not going to talk secrets,” the master of the house replied, as he pushed the cigar-stand towards Gilbert. ‘“* Though there is a little matter of business between Mr. Haviland: and myself comicbooks.com