The sender was anonymous.'
'Per'aps,' Captain Bassett has said--and still more in a dream I 'ear
him--'per'aps on the 'at-box there is some bally name or other, do you
not know--what?'
I clutch at the table. The room is spinning round and round. I have no
stomach--only emptiness.
'Why, bless me,' the _directeur_ has said, 'you're quite right,
sir. So there is. Funny of me not to have before observed it. There is
a name, and also an address. It is the name of Jean Priaulx, and the
address is the Hotel Jules Priaulx, Paris.'
My companion stopped abruptly. He passed a handkerchief over his
forehead. With a quick movement he reached for his glass of liqueur
brandy and drained it at a gulp.
'Monsieur,' he said, 'you will not wish me to describe the scene? There
is no need for me--_hein?_--to be Zolaesque. You can imagine?'
'She chucked you?' In moments of emotion it is the simplest language
that comes to the lips.
He nodded.
'And married Captain Bassett?'
He nodded again.
'And your uncle?' I said. 'How did he take it?'
He sighed.
'There was once more,' he said, 'blooming row, monsieur.'
'He washed his hands of you?'
'Not altogether. He was angry, but he gave me one more chance. I am
still 'is dear brother's child, and he cannot forget it. An
acquaintance of his, a man of letters, a M.
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