But at length, there was a click, and with a swish, the panel of painted books swung outward from the wall. He had but to give his orders. Advancing to the middle of the chamber, he halted, drew himself up, and fixed his dark, expressive eyes, on Thames Darrell. ‘Peste,’ she wailed, as Emile dropped to the floor, ducking down. She was nearly too giddy still to answer him. ‘Comment? You have then met this Suzanne?’ The woman turned a deep red.
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