‘Well?’ she said. “You are Mademoiselle Pellissier?” he asked, without rising to his feet. “Agreed,” he said with queer exaltation, and his grip tightened on her hand. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. Take care of yourselves, gentlemen, and your governor will take care of you.
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