’ The crack in the iron front widened a little, and the general was obliged to clamp his jaws tight against the rise of a pain too well remembered. “Who is the tenant of these rooms?” he inquired. Go quickly and call him. I don’t care what else there is in the world. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. Sure of foot, noiseless, he made the veranda and paused at the side of one of the screened windows.
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