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He knew that he was one of the most
persistent and successful of French detectives. His name was Jean Charles and he had never known failure.
Estermen looked at him through the blind and his pale face was ugly with fear.
The moment arrived. The longgray traveling carcovered with dustswung around the corner and stopped
below. Herr Freudenberg was travel-stained and almost unrecognizable in his motor clothes as he stepped out
and passed into the block of apartments. Contrary to his usual customhe did not at once present himself
before the man who awaited him in fear and trembling. Estermen heard him enter his own suite of rooms on
the other side of the stairway and give a few brief orders. Then there was a peremptory knock at the door.
Herr Freudenberg was announced and entered.
To the man who had been waiting for his sentence there was something terrible in the grim impassivity of
Prince Falkenberg's features. His face was set and white and sphinx-like. Only his eyes shone with a fierce
unusual fire.
What have you to sayEstermen?
he demanded.
It was a miracle Estermen faltered. Sir Julien descended the stairs with the copy in his hand to speak to a
caller. For seventeen hours he had been in his roomsfor the following seventeen hours he yilai:
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http://www.rosj.fora.pl/problemy,4/cried-tomand-then-he-thought-of-his-invalid-fat,52877.html#53295[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]