The stranger was standing just under the
portrait of Hume; he gazed up at it, and his big shoulders shook with
laughter.
"What a mistake to make," he said, still in French. "How was I to know
that the old devil once called himself Wayne!"
He reached up and took the picture from its hook; with thick, powerful
fingers he tore the backing away, and a flat, compact bundle of papers
was disclosed. The picture was thrown upon the bed, and the man stood
staring at the papers, a wide smile upon his face.
"So this is the secret, eh? Well, Locke will pay well for it, and it
will be worth all the risks I've taken."
He was fumbling with a coat pocket as though to stow them away, when
there came a swift, light rush, the packet was torn from his hands,
and Edyth Vale was darting toward the hall door and the stairway
beyond.
But despite his bulk, the man with the stooped shoulders proved
himself singularly swift. In two leaps he had overtaken her; dragging
her back to the center of the room, he snatched the packet from her in
turn. Regarding her with calm, pitiless eyes, he said in English:
"I am sorry, mees, that you have come, eh? Eet makes eet mooch harder
for me. And I am of the kind that would rather be off quietly, is it
not? and say no words to no one.
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