But rather than run any risks in the crowd
thronging the _douane_, I decided to let the suitcase look after itself,
and send down for it with the key from the hotel later. Again the little
man was close to my side as I went in search of a cab, for all his
things had been gone through by the custom house officer in mid-channel,
so that he too was free to depart without delay. He even seemed to cling
to me, somewhat wistfully, and I half thought he meant to speak, but he
did not, save for a "good evening, sir," as I separated myself from him
at last. He had stuck rather too close, elbow to elbow; but I had no
fear for the letter-case, as he was on the wrong side to play any
conjurer's tricks with that. The last I saw of the fellow, he was
walking toward a cab, and looking uneasily over his shoulder at his two
late travelling companions, who were getting into another vehicle near
by.
I went straight to the Elysee Palace Hotel, where I had never stopped
before--a long drive from the Gare du Nord--and claimed the rooms for
which "Mr. George Sandford" had wired from London. The suite engaged was
a charming one, and the private salon almost worthy to receive the
lovely lady I expected.
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