They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. ’ Fresh suspicion kindled in his breast. "Try fifty pounds more," said Jonathan. “I had the pleasure of—er—meeting you more than once, I believe. The real ‘Alcide’,” she wound up with a faint smile across the table at him, “is here. On weighing the matter over, he grew so uneasy that he resolved to descend, and inform him of his misgivings. He was bringing the sing-song girl to the hotel! The strange cortège presently vanished below the window-sill.
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