’” “Is ‘Alcide’ still in Paris?” Ennison asked. ’ The lady hesitated a moment, her eyes seeming to measure the distance between where he stood and the door. She felt as if she had struck them unawares. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. They could not go on.
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