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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

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

A
servant answered the summons, and told me the lawyer was engaged,
as I had half expected.
'Wha shall I say was callin'?' she pursued; and when I had told her
'Mr. Ducie,' 'I think this'll be for you, then?' she added, and
handed me a letter from the hall table. It ran:

'DEAR MR. DUCIE,
'My single advice to you is to leave quam primum for the South.
Yours, T. ROBBIE.'

That was short and sweet. It emphatically extinguished hope in one
direction. No more was to be gotten of Robbie; and I wondered,
from my heart, how much had been told him. Not too much, I hoped,
for I liked the lawyer who had thus deserted me, and I placed a
certain reliance in the discretion of Chevenix. He would not be
merciful; on the other hand, I did not think he would be cruel
without cause.
It was my next affair to go back along George Street, and assure
myself whether the man in the moleskin vest was still on guard.
There was no sign of him on the pavement. Spying the door of a
common stair nearly opposite the bank, I took it in my head that
this would be a good point of observation, crossed the street,
entered with a businesslike air and fell immediately against the
man in the moleskin vest. I stopped and apologised to him; he
replied in an unmistakable English accent, thus putting the matter
almost beyond doubt.


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