Suddenly his
expression changed. He pointed to the door. The words came from his lips
with the crisp rapidity of a repeating rifle!
"Who is that man?" he demanded. "Look! quick!"
I was just in time to see Hirsch's figure disappearing through the swing
doors.
"A man named Hirsch," I answered.
"Who is he?"
"One of the committee of the Union," I answered.
"He left something with a waiter. Call the waiter quickly," Monsieur
Bardow demanded.
I obeyed at once. The waiter, a Swiss-German, hurried to our table.
"What did Mr. Hirsch want?" I asked.
"He said that he was coming back to dinner this evening, and he left a
bag," the waiter replied.
"Bring the bag here at once!" Bardow ordered.
Already he had risen to his feet. Something of his excitement had become
communicated to us. In obedience to a peremptory gesture from Guest, the
waiter hurried off, and returned almost immediately carrying a small
black bag. Bardow held it for a moment to his ear. We were all conscious
of a faint purring noise. Nagaski began to whine.
Pages:
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360