Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. He passed but a cursory glance over the formal certificate that identified the Frenchman before him as one André Valade, distant cousin to the Vicomte Valade. You notice that I have recently spent ten francs on a box of the best Russian cigarettes, and that there are roses upon my table. Well, that’s the situation. .
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