And what mountains! You can live there very cheaply.
As a suspect you will merely have to report once a month to the chief of
police of Oloron Sainte Marie; he's an old friend of mine! He's a fine,
fat, red-cheeked man, very kindly. He will make it easy for you, _M'sieu'
Jean_, and will help you out in every way, when you tell him you are a
friend of the little Belgian with the broken arm. Tell him I sent you.
You will have a very fine time, and you can paint: such scenery to paint!
My God--not like what you see from these windows. I advise you by all
means to ask to go to Oloron."
So thinking I lathered my face, standing before Judas' mirror.
"You don't rub enough," the Alsatian advised, "_il faut frotter bien!_" A
number of fellow-captives were regarding my toilet with surprise and
satisfaction. I discovered in the mirror an astounding beard and a good
layer of dirt. I worked busily, counselled by several voices, censured by
the Alsatian, encouraged by Judas himself. The shave and the wash
completed I felt considerably refreshed.
WHANG!
"_L'americain en bas!_" It was the Black Holster. I carefully adjusted my
tunic and obeyed him.
The Directeur and the Surveillant were in consultation when I entered the
latter's office.
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