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Nicholson, Meredith, 1866-1947

"The Port of Missing Men"

He had underrated
Armitage's courage and daring; he wished to make no further mistakes, and
he walked back toward the hotel with apparent good grace. Armitage spoke
now in a very different key, and the change displeased Chauvenet, for he
much affected ironical raillery, and his companion's sterner tones
disconcerted him.
"I take this opportunity to give you a solemn warning, Monsieur Jules
Chauvenet, alias Rambaud, and thereby render you a greater service than
you know. You have undertaken a deep and dangerous game--it is
spectacular--it is picturesque--it is immense! It is so stupendous that
the taking of a few lives seems trifling in comparison with the end to be
attained. Now look about you for a moment, Monsieur Jules Chauvenet! In
this mountain air a man may grow very sane and see matters very clearly.
London, Paris, Berlin, Vienna--they are a long way off, and the things
they stand for lose their splendor when a man sits among these American
mountains and reflects upon the pettiness and sordidness of man's common
ambitions."
"Is this exordium or peroration, my dear fellow?"
"It is both," replied Armitage succinctly, and Chauvenet was sorry he had
spoken, for Armitage stopped short in a lonely stretch of the highway and
continued in a disagreeable, incisive tone:
"I ran away from Washington after you told that story at Claiborne's
supper-table, not because I was afraid of your accusation, but because I
wanted to watch your plans a little in security.


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