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Griffiths, Arthur, 1838-1908

"The Passenger from Calais"

The _cercle_
or _casino_ and its _succursale_ the Villa des Fleurs, with their many
spacious rooms, reading-room, concert-room, baccarat-room, their
restaurants, their beautiful gardens, are thronged at all hours of the
day with the smart folk of all nationalities.
I stood on the top of the steps waiting for the private omnibus that
plies between the hotel and the town below, when I heard my name
called from behind, and turning, was confronted by Jules l'Echelle.
"Hullo!" I cried, eying him suspiciously. "What brings you up here?"
"The Colonel, my master--for I have taken service with him, you must
know--sent me here to inquire whether we could have rooms."
"Why does he choose this hotel of all others?" I asked in a
dissatisfied tone, although in my secret heart I was overjoyed.
"It's the best, isn't it? Haven't you come here?"
"My Lord Blackadder has, but that's another pair of shoes. There's
some difference between him and a beggarly half-pay Colonel who will
very likely have to black the boots to work out his bill. They know
how to charge here."
"The Colonel, I take it, can pay his way as well as most people.


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