I should strongly advise that
monsieur provide himself with such a credential, though it is not,
perhaps, absolutely _de rigueur_."
Back in my room at the Ritz, I consulted my watch. It was a quarter of
two; certainly time had marched apace. Should I, like a sensible man,
descend to the restaurant and enjoy a sample of the justly famous
cuisine of the hotel? Or should I throw all reason overboard and post
off on--what was it Dunny had called my mission--a wild-goose chase?
I glanced at myself in the mirror and shook a disapproving head. "You're
no knight-errant," I told my impassive image. "You're too correct, too
indifferent-looking altogether. Better not get beyond your depth!" I
decided for luncheon, followed by a leisurely knotting of the threads
of my Parisian acquaintance. Then, as if some malign hypnotist had
projected it before me, I saw again a vision of that flashing, lean,
gray car.
"I'm hanged if I don't have a shot at this thing!"
The words seemed to pop out of my mouth entirely of their own accord.
By no conscious agency of my own, I found myself madly hurling collars,
handkerchiefs, toilet articles, whatever I seemed likeliest to need in a
brief journey, into a bag.
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