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Griffiths, Arthur, 1838-1908

"The Passenger from Calais"


I quickened my pace and entered the hotel almost simultaneously with
her. Ranging up alongside I said, not without exultation:
"Geneva was not so much to your taste, then? You have left rather
abruptly."
"To whom are you speaking, sir?" she replied in a stiff, strange
voice, assumed, I felt sure, for the occasion. She was so closely
veiled that I could not see her face, but it was the same figure, the
same costume, the same air. Lady Blackadder that was, Mrs. Blair as
she now chose to call herself, I could have sworn to her among a
thousand.
"It won't do, madame," I insisted. "I'm not to be put off. I know all
about it, and I've got you tight, and I'm not going to leave go again.
No fear." I meant to spend the night on guard, watching and waiting
till I was relieved by the arrival of the others, to whom I
telegraphed without delay.


CHAPTER XIV.
[_Colonel Annesley resumes._]

I left my narrative at the moment when I had promised my help to the
lady I found in such distress in the Engadine express. I promised it
unconditionally, and although there were circumstances in her case to
engender suspicion, I resolutely ignored them.


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