He had often been that way, and it was generally used by the
frequenters of the place when they had reason to guard their movements.
He listened again.
The voice was even more hoarse than usual and more uncertain. Though
he could not hear the words, the broken sentences gave an impression of
breathlessness. When she stopped speaking he heard the voice of the
proprietor raised in an emphatic stage-whisper. Yes, Monsieur Poleski
was within. Mademoiselle was fortunately in time to find him. If
Mademoiselle would give herself the trouble to wait but for one
moment--.
The little man fancied himself an adept at intrigue, and his methods
were often a cause of anxiety to those he befriended. His nods and
gestures and meaning glances as he emerged would have been enough to
arouse suspicion in the most guileless.
He stood blinking his short-sighted eyes through the haze in his effort
to attract Emile's attention without being detected. The latter got up
and sauntered towards him.
"_Bon soir, Monsieur Lefevre_," he said carelessly.
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