“Who is the tenant of these rooms?” he inquired. " "Iss, Massa Austin," replied the black. ‘I have no idea. Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. When you've seized him, cough thrice thus,—and two rough-looking gentlemen will make their appearance. ‘You had better kill me, mademoiselle, because otherwise I shall end by strangling you. I do not say guest because that suggests friendship; and I am no friend of this Wastrel.
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