‘And that Suzanne, the sister of my cousin the vicomte, must choose between Monsieur Charvill and her brother. The gentleman appealed to shook his head in reply, coughed as only a Dutchman can cough, and raising his hand from the bowl of his pipe, went through precisely the same mysterious ceremonial as the Master. I have tried not to tell you—tried to be simply your friend. It gave her great satisfaction to hear that Madame Chamberlain had spent a night in the county jail, even if the nocturnal activities picked right up again after two weeks. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. This is a joke of yours. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance.
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