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The Duke Decides

said, with affected carelessness. “He was under the seat, eh? Funny sort of person to be traveling first-class; but, of course, you will understand that I am not acquainted with him.”

Beaumanoir made no comment. He had got what he wanted. That sudden tell-tale gleam of menace had discounted the subsequent disclaimer, and he knew that this man had been no chance fellow-passenger with Marker, the spy. What was more, the man knew that he knew it, and Beaumanoir shrewdly guessed that the effort of control was intended to deceive not him but the keeper. The rascal was biding his time till he had learned what dispositions were to be made for the night, when doubtless he would shape his actions accordingly; and, in the meanwhile, it was necessary to his purpose that Sir Claude Asprey’s honest old retainer should regard him as an innocent guest.

Again that persistent reliance on the Duke’s impotence to speak up and boldly claim protection. All through the hot pursuit that leaguered him so closely this was the bitterest drop in Beaumanoir’s cup, for it was he himself who had placed the gag in his own mouth, he

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