Genre Thriller. Page - 4

t tell us how his son comes to be your guest," President Bonnet urged."It is very simple: Etienne Rambert is an energetic man who is always moving about. Although he is quite sixty he still occupies himself with some rubber plantations he possesses in Colombia, and he often goes to America: he thinks no more of the voyage than we do of a trip to Paris. Well, just recently young Charles Rambert was leaving the pension in Hamburg where he had been living in order to perfect his German;

t there will be no question----""Willingly," said the other, rising. "Do not my people serve God as they choose? For you, if you like, the Holy Roman Empire reconstituted with you as its titular head, the sovereignty of central Europe intact--all the half formulated experiments of the West, at the point of the sword. This is your mission--and mine!" The two men faced each other, eye to eye, but the smaller dominated. "A pact, my brother," said the man in the

or anything -- it was just that these girls always smelled amazing.Afterwards, if he was looking back on that day and trying to choose a particular moment, he'd have to say that right then, as he stepped forwards, was probably when things started to unravel. It was about the last thing to happen that day that really made any sort of sense. Everything after that point was like a really unpleasant episode from someone else's life spliced into his, not to mention that most of it took place in

used a youngman, the following day in the little hamlet of Tafelberg, towhistle as he carefully read it over."I am glad that I am not the mad king of Lutha," he saidas he paid the storekeeper for the gasoline he had just pur-chased and stepped into the gray roadster for whose greedymaw it was destined. "Why, mein Herr?" asked the man. "This notice practically gives immunity to whoever shootsdown the king," replied the traveler. "Worse still, it givessuch an

adily enough, for, unfortunately, my professional duties were not onerous."Good man!" he cried, wringing my hand in his impetuous way. "We start now." "What, to-night? "To-night! I had thought of turning in, I must admit. I have not dared to sleep for forty-eight hours, except in fifteen-minute stretches. But there is one move that must be made to-night and immediately. I must warn Sir Crichton Davey." "Sir Crichton Davey--of the India--"

l, low-storied house, of which the ground-floor was occupied by the proprietor of a dram-shop, who stood smoking in his doorway, next to the entrance-passage. Lupin asked if Mr. Hargrove was at home."Mr. Hargrove went out about half-an-hour ago," said the publican. "He seemed very much excited and took a taxi-cab, a thing he doesn't often do." "And you don't know...." "Where he was going? Well, there's no secret about it He shouted it loud enough! 'Prefecture

s a pause that Grant Hampton thought lasted an eternity."You picked a funny time to call." Is that all she has to say? Four and a half frigging years she shuts me out of her life, blaming me, and then... "Well, Ally, I figured there's gotta be a statute of limitations on being accused of something I didn't do. So I decided to take a flier that maybe four years and change was in the ballpark." "Grant, do you know what time it is? This is Sunday and--" "Hey,

-except as they might have been reminded of the dreary distance from the glitter and the tinsel of the East. The mountains, distant and shining, would have meant nothing to them; the strong, pungent aroma of the sage might have nauseated them.But Miss Benham had caught her first glimpse of Manti and the surrounding country from a window of her berth in the car that morning just at dawn, and she loved it. She had lain for some time cuddled up in her bed, watching the sun rise over the distant

e with you. The railway last night for twenty miles back was held up for State purposes. We none of us know why, and it doesn't do to be too curious over here, but they have an idea that you are either a journalist or a spy.""Civis Britannicus sum!" the boy answered, with a laugh. "It doesn't quite mean what it used to, sir," the man answered quietly. CHAPTER II AT THE CAFÉ MONTMARTRE Exactly a week later, at five minutes after midnight, Guy Poynton, in evening dress,