Chauvelin had partially recovered; his sneezing had become
less violent, and he had struggled to his feet. He managed to reach
the door just as Desgas' knock was heard on the outside.
Chauvelin threw open the door, and before his secretary could
say a word, he had managed to stammer between two sneezes--
"The tall stranger--quick!--did any of you see him?"
"Where, citoyen?" asked Desgas, in surprise.
"Here, man! through that door! not five minutes ago."
"We saw nothing, citoyen! The moon is not yet up, and. . ."
"And you are just five minutes too late, my friend," said
Chauvelin, with concentrated fury.
"Citoyen. . .I. . ."
"You did what I ordered you to do," said Chauvelin, with
impatience. "I know that, but you were a precious long time about it.
Fortunately, there's not much harm done, or it had fared ill with you,
Citoyen Desgas."
Desgas turned a little pale. There was so much rage and
hatred in his superior's whole attitude.
"The tall stranger, citoyen--" he stammered.
"Was here, in this room, five minutes ago, having supper at
that table. Damn his impudence! For obvious reasons, I dared not
tackle him alone.
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