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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England"

And we had every right to suppose ourselves
alone, and to conclude that the new-comer, whoever he might be, was
come on a clandestine, if not a hostile, errand.
'Who is there?' asked Romaine.
'It's only me, sir,' said the soft voice of Dawson. 'It's the
Viscount, sir. He is very desirous to speak with you on business.'
'Tell him I shall come shortly, Dawson,' said the lawyer. 'I am at
present engaged.'
'Thank you, sir!' said Dawson.
And we heard his feet draw off slowly along the corridor.
'Yes,' said Mr. Romaine, speaking low, and maintaining the attitude
of one intently listening, 'there is another foot. I cannot be
deceived!'
'I think there was indeed!' said I. 'And what troubles me--I am
not sure that the other has gone entirely away. By the time it got
the length of the head of the stair the tread was plainly single.'
'Ahem--blockaded?' asked the lawyer.
'A siege en regle!' I exclaimed.
'Let us come farther from the door,' said Romaine, 'and reconsider
this damnable position. Without doubt, Alain was this moment at
the door. He hoped to enter and get a view of you, as if by
accident. Baffled in this, has he stayed himself, or has he
planted Dawson here by way of sentinel?'
'Himself, beyond a doubt,' said I. 'And yet to what end? He
cannot think to pass the night there!'
'If it were only possible to pay no heed!' said Mr.


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