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Rohmer, Sax, 1883-1959

"Fire-Tongue"

Oh, indeed I'm telling you the
truth! It seemed to me that Fire-Tongue was some sort of mark."
"Mark?"
"Yes--a mark Sir Charles had seen in India, and then again in
London--"
"In London! Where in London?"
"On someone's arm."
"What! Tell me the name of this person!"
"I can't remember, sir! Oh, truly I can't."
"Was the name mentioned?"
"Yes."
"Was it Armand?"
"No."
"Ormond?"
"No."
"Anything like Ormond?"
The girl shook her head.
"It was not Ormuz Khan?"
"No. I am sure it wasn't."
Paul Harley's expression underwent a sudden change. "Was it
Brown?" he asked.
She hesitated. "I believe it did begin with a B," she admitted.
"Was it Brunn?"
"No! I remember, sir. It was Brinn!"
"Good God!" muttered Harley. "Are you sure?"
"Quite sure."
"Do you know any one of that name?"
"No, sir."
"And is this positively all you remember?"
"On my oath, it is."
"How often have you seen Sidney since your dismissal?"
"I saw him on the morning I left."
"And then not again until to-day?"
"No."
"Does he live in London?"
"No. He is a valet to a gentleman who lives in the country."
"How do you know?"
"He told me."
"What is the name of the place?"
"I don't know."
"Once again--what is the name of the place?"
The girl bit her lip.
"Answer!" shouted Harley.
"I swear, sir," cried the girl, beginning suddenly to sob, "that
I don't know! Oh, please let me go! I swear I have told you all I
know!"
"Good!"
Paul Harley glanced at his watch, crossed the room, and opened
the door.


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