British -- France -- Fiction; Humorous stories; Riviera (France) -- Fiction; Spouses -- Fiction
"Only that, going about in the world, I get to know a lot of things.
There are so many sharpers about on the Continent--gangs of them in
league together. They follow people to Nice and Monte Carlo, and all
these places, and rook them in all sorts of ways. They are regular
birds of prey, living by their wits. Some think the police are in
their pay. Robbery after robbery takes place in trains and
custom-houses; at least, jewels, money, and letters of credit
disappear from locked and registered luggage, and the thieves are
scarcely ever found out. I say, where do you think she spent the
afternoon of the day she came to Les Oliviers?--Ah! here they are,"
as Miss Somers and the thin man came in sight of the waiting-place in
the Jardins Publics. "Poor Mr. Welbourne, he's quite gone on her
already. She can't leave him alone a minute."
"Four seats on the stand, but not together," said the thin man,
unconscious of personal comment. "How shall we divide?"
Although Ermengarde had by this time made some progress in the art of
sticking on to a perpendicular donkey acting as an intermittent
see-saw, somebody having given her some lessons on the most
gentle-paced beast to be found, she was not enamoured of that form of
gymnastic, and of two evils had thought a descent by a shorter path
through gardens and woods on foot with Miss Boundrish, the less,
leaving Miss Somers to ride down the longer mule-path with the thin
man, whose slight lameness made him a poor pedestrian. But her
feeling of relief when the other two came up brought her to the
conclusion that even donkeys were preferable to Dorris. Yet the
hints from the pink coral lips were not without effect upon her,
chiming as they did with her own inferences, and she was dying to
know where Agatha had spent the afternoon of that first day, which
Dorris had also passed away from the hotel.
The party being now complete, they left the gardens and wound through
the holiday streets in the sunshine, now jostled by a cheerful and
apologizing devil, black from head to heel, with bat-wings of black
crape stretched on cane; now mixed up in a flock of geese with human
legs and monstrous cackling beaks; now avoiding the attentions of
dominos flinging paper serpents and trying to draw them into
impromptu dances whenever a band was heard along the street.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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