“What are you laughing at?” said the millionaire, and a sudden lowering gloom overspread his beaming face.

“Nothing—nothing,” said the Duke quietly. “Only you’re so full of surprises.杭州桑拿体验 ”

“I’ve startled you, have I? I thought I should. It’s true that I’m full of surprises. It’s my knowledge. I understand so much. I understand business, and I love art, pictures, a good bargain, bric-a-brac, fine tapestry. They’re first-class investments. Yes, certainly I do love the beautiful. And I don’t want to 杭州水疗哪里好玩 boast, but I understand it. I have taste, and I’ve something better than taste; I have a flair, the dealer’s flair.”

“Yes, your collections, especially your collection in Paris, prove it,” said the Duke, stifling a yawn.

“And yet you haven’t seen the finest thing I have—the coronet of the Princesse de Lamballe. 浙江杭州龙凤妮妮 It’s worth half a million francs.”

“So I’ve heard,” said the Duke, a little wearily. “I don’t wonder that Arsene Lupin envied you it.”

The Empire chair creaked as the millionaire jumped.

“Don’t speak of the swine!” he roared. “Don’t mention 杭州水疗SPA his name before me.”

“Germaine showed me his letter,” said the Duke. “It is amusing.”

“His letter! The blackguard! I just missed a fit of apoplexy from it,” roared the 杭州桑拿按摩论坛 millionaire. “I was in this very hall where we are now, chatting quietly, when all at once in comes Firmin, and hands me a letter.”

He was interrupted by the opening of the door.


Firmin came clumping down the room, and said in his deep voice, “A letter for you, sir.”

“Thank you,” said the millionaire, 杭州龙凤妃子阁 taking the letter, and, as he fitted his eye-glass into his eye, he went on, “Yes, Firmin brought me a letter of which the handwriting,”—he raised the envelope he was holding to his eyes, and bellowed, “Good heavens!”

“What’s the matter?” said the Duke, jumping in his chair at the sudden, startling burst of sound.

“The handwriting!—the handwriting!—it’s THE SAME HANDWRITING!” gasped 杭州足疗机 the millionaire. 杭州足浴ttAnd he let himself fall heavily backwards against the back of his chair.

There was a crash. The Duke had a vision of huge arms and legs waving in the air as the chair-back gave. There was another crash. The chair collapsed. The huge bulk banged to the floor.

The laughter of the Duke


rang out uncontrollably. He caught one of the waving arms, and jerked the flabby giant to his feet with an ease which seemed to show that his muscles were of steel.

“Come,” he said, laughing still. “This is nonsense! What do you mean by the same handwriting? It can’t be.”

“It is the same handwriting. Am I likely to make a mistake about it?” spluttered the millionaire. And he tore open the envelope with an air of frenzy.

He ran his eyes over it, and they grew larger and 杭州大学生伴游 larger—they grew almost of an average size.

“Listen,” he said “listen:”


“My collection of pictures, 杭州水磨多少钱 which I had the pleasure of starting three years ago with some of your own, only contains, as far as Old Masters go, one Velasquez, one Rembrandt, and three paltry Rubens. You have a great many more. Since it is a shame such masterpieces should be in your hands, I propose to appropriate them; and I shall set about a respectful acquisition of them in your Paris house tomorrow morning.”

“Yours very sincerely,”