#charolais — Public Fediverse posts

Southill partners with Michelin-rated chef for Montblu, Charolais restaurants

Over the past year, a miniature European village coined Southill in Midway has come to life under the vision of developer Dan Luster. Part of that vision inc…
#dining #cooking #diet #food #Frenchrestaurants #Charolais #francais #france #French #FrenchRestaurants #midway #montblu #Restaurants #Southill
https://www.diningandcooking.com/2786085/southill-partners-with-michelin-rated-chef-for-montblu-charolais-restaurants/

Southill partners with Michelin-rated chef for Montblu, Charolais restaurants

Over the past year, a miniature European village coined Southill in Midway has come to life under the vision of developer Dan Luster. Part of that vision inc…
#dining #cooking #diet #food #Frenchrestaurants #Charolais #francais #france #French #FrenchRestaurants #midway #montblu #Restaurants #Southill
https://www.diningandcooking.com/2786085/southill-partners-with-michelin-rated-chef-for-montblu-charolais-restaurants/

Southill partners with Michelin-rated chef for Montblu, Charolais restaurants

Over the past year, a miniature European village coined Southill in Midway has come to life under the vision of developer Dan Luster. Part of that vision inc…
#dining #cooking #diet #food #Frenchrestaurants #Charolais #francais #france #French #FrenchRestaurants #midway #montblu #Restaurants #Southill
https://www.diningandcooking.com/2786085/southill-partners-with-michelin-rated-chef-for-montblu-charolais-restaurants/

Southill partners with Michelin-rated chef for Montblu, Charolais restaurants

Over the past year, a miniature European village coined Southill in Midway has come to life under the vision of developer Dan Luster. Part of that vision inc…
#dining #cooking #diet #food #Frenchrestaurants #Charolais #francais #france #French #FrenchRestaurants #midway #montblu #Restaurants #Southill
https://www.diningandcooking.com/2786085/southill-partners-with-michelin-rated-chef-for-montblu-charolais-restaurants/

Southill partners with Michelin-rated chef for Montblu, Charolais restaurants  https://www.diningandcooking.com/2786085/southill-partners-with-michelin-rated-chef-for-montblu-charolais-restaurants/ #Charolais #francais #france #French #FrenchRestaurants #midway #montblu #Restaurants #Southill

Southill partners with Michelin-rated chef for Montblu, Charolais restaurants  https://www.diningandcooking.com/2786085/southill-partners-with-michelin-rated-chef-for-montblu-charolais-restaurants/ #Charolais #francais #france #French #FrenchRestaurants #midway #montblu #Restaurants #Southill

Southill partners with Michelin-rated chef for Montblu, Charolais restaurants  https://www.diningandcooking.com/2786085/southill-partners-with-michelin-rated-chef-for-montblu-charolais-restaurants/ #Charolais #francais #france #French #FrenchRestaurants #midway #montblu #Restaurants #Southill

Southill partners with Michelin-rated chef for Montblu, Charolais restaurants  https://www.diningandcooking.com/chefs/4038/ #charolais #Chef #midway #montblu #Southill

Southill partners with Michelin-rated chef for Montblu, Charolais restaurants  https://www.diningandcooking.com/chefs/4038/ #charolais #Chef #midway #montblu #Southill

Southill partners with Michelin-rated chef for Montblu, Charolais restaurants  https://www.diningandcooking.com/chefs/4038/ #charolais #Chef #midway #montblu #Southill

Charolais by Chef Austin Simmons opens in The Woodlands featuring customized steak boards | The Woodlands

Charolais by Chef Austin Simmons is now open in The Woodlands at Hughes Landing, according to a July 14 news release from Howard Hughes Communities. Simmons was formerly…
#dining #cooking #diet #food #Dining #AustinSimmons #Charolais #TheWoodlands
https://www.diningandcooking.com/2726960/charolais-by-chef-austin-simmons-opens-in-the-woodlands-featuring-customized-steak-boards-the-woodlands/

Charolais by Chef Austin Simmons opens in The Woodlands featuring customized steak boards | The Woodlands

Charolais by Chef Austin Simmons is now open in The Woodlands at Hughes Landing, according to a July 14 news release from Howard Hughes Communities. Simmons was formerly…
#dining #cooking #diet #food #Dining #AustinSimmons #Charolais #TheWoodlands
https://www.diningandcooking.com/2726960/charolais-by-chef-austin-simmons-opens-in-the-woodlands-featuring-customized-steak-boards-the-woodlands/

Charolais by Chef Austin Simmons opens in The Woodlands featuring customized steak boards | The Woodlands

Charolais by Chef Austin Simmons is now open in The Woodlands at Hughes Landing, according to a July 14 news release from Howard Hughes Communities. Simmons was formerly…
#dining #cooking #diet #food #Dining #AustinSimmons #Charolais #TheWoodlands
https://www.diningandcooking.com/2726960/charolais-by-chef-austin-simmons-opens-in-the-woodlands-featuring-customized-steak-boards-the-woodlands/

Charolais by Chef Austin Simmons opens in The Woodlands featuring customized steak boards | The Woodlands

Charolais by Chef Austin Simmons is now open in The Woodlands at Hughes Landing, according to a July 14 news release from Howard Hughes Communities. Simmons was formerly…
#dining #cooking #diet #food #Dining #AustinSimmons #Charolais #TheWoodlands
https://www.diningandcooking.com/2726960/charolais-by-chef-austin-simmons-opens-in-the-woodlands-featuring-customized-steak-boards-the-woodlands/

Charolais by Chef Austin Simmons opens in The Woodlands featuring customized steak boards | The Woodlands https://www.diningandcooking.com/2726960/charolais-by-chef-austin-simmons-opens-in-the-woodlands-featuring-customized-steak-boards-the-woodlands/ #AustinSimmons #Charolais #dining #TheWoodlands

Charolais by Chef Austin Simmons opens in The Woodlands featuring customized steak boards | The Woodlands https://www.diningandcooking.com/2726960/charolais-by-chef-austin-simmons-opens-in-the-woodlands-featuring-customized-steak-boards-the-woodlands/ #AustinSimmons #Charolais #dining #TheWoodlands

Charolais by Chef Austin Simmons opens in The Woodlands featuring customized steak boards | The Woodlands https://www.diningandcooking.com/2726960/charolais-by-chef-austin-simmons-opens-in-the-woodlands-featuring-customized-steak-boards-the-woodlands/ #AustinSimmons #Charolais #dining #TheWoodlands

#Hereford #Charolais cross #Cow

#Hereford #Charolais cross #Cow

#Hereford #Charolais cross #Cow

#Hereford #Charolais cross #Cow

#Hereford #Charolais cross #Cow

#Charolais/#Hereford cross #Cow

#Charolais/#Hereford cross #Cow

#Charolais/#Hereford cross #Cow

#Charolais/#Hereford cross #Cow

@FotoVorschlag
'Nachbarschaft'/ 'neighbourhood'

... ist vorwiegend bovin.

...is primarily bovine.

#FotoVorschlag #photoprompt #photography #cows #coswofmastodon #charolais

@FotoVorschlag
'Nachbarschaft'/ 'neighbourhood'

... ist vorwiegend bovin.

...is primarily bovine.

#FotoVorschlag #photoprompt #photography #cows #coswofmastodon #charolais

@FotoVorschlag
'Nachbarschaft'/ 'neighbourhood'

... ist vorwiegend bovin.

...is primarily bovine.

#FotoVorschlag #photoprompt #photography #cows #coswofmastodon #charolais

@FotoVorschlag
'Nachbarschaft'/ 'neighbourhood'

... ist vorwiegend bovin.

...is primarily bovine.

#FotoVorschlag #photoprompt #photography #cows #coswofmastodon #charolais

@FotoVorschlag
'Nachbarschaft'/ 'neighbourhood'

... ist vorwiegend bovin.

...is primarily bovine.

#FotoVorschlag #photoprompt #photography #cows #coswofmastodon #charolais

Cow painting - Charolais ❤️🐮❤️
https://fineartamerica.com/featured/cow-painting-charolais-jan-matson.html

An oil painting of a beautiful, young white Charolais cow, 'Maureen'.

#Charolais #cows #CowsOfMastodon #CuteAnimals #cute #animals #JanMatson #art #artist #ArtistsOfMastodon #MastoArt #animal #KitchenArt
#FediGiftShop #painting #JanMatson #OilPainting #cow
#prints #AnimalArt #arte #FediArt #artwork #CowPainting #FarmAnimalArt #RusticArt #FarmhouseStyle #WesternHomeDecor #LiveStock #WhiteCowPainting

Cow painting - Charolais ❤️🐮❤️
https://fineartamerica.com/featured/cow-painting-charolais-jan-matson.html

An oil painting of a beautiful, young white Charolais cow, 'Maureen'.

#Charolais #cows #CowsOfMastodon #CuteAnimals #cute #animals #JanMatson #art #artist #ArtistsOfMastodon #MastoArt #animal #KitchenArt
#FediGiftShop #painting #JanMatson #OilPainting #cow
#prints #AnimalArt #arte #FediArt #artwork #CowPainting #FarmAnimalArt #RusticArt #FarmhouseStyle #WesternHomeDecor #LiveStock #WhiteCowPainting

Cow painting - Charolais ❤️🐮❤️
https://fineartamerica.com/featured/cow-painting-charolais-jan-matson.html

An oil painting of a beautiful, young white Charolais cow, 'Maureen'.

#Charolais #cows #CowsOfMastodon #CuteAnimals #cute #animals #JanMatson #art #artist #ArtistsOfMastodon #MastoArt #animal #KitchenArt
#FediGiftShop #painting #JanMatson #OilPainting #cow
#prints #AnimalArt #arte #FediArt #artwork #CowPainting #FarmAnimalArt #RusticArt #FarmhouseStyle #WesternHomeDecor #LiveStock #WhiteCowPainting

Cow painting - Charolais ❤️🐮❤️
https://fineartamerica.com/featured/cow-painting-charolais-jan-matson.html

An oil painting of a beautiful, young white Charolais cow, 'Maureen'.

#Charolais #cows #CowsOfMastodon #CuteAnimals #cute #animals #JanMatson #art #artist #ArtistsOfMastodon #MastoArt #animal #KitchenArt
#FediGiftShop #painting #JanMatson #OilPainting #cow
#prints #AnimalArt #arte #FediArt #artwork #CowPainting #FarmAnimalArt #RusticArt #FarmhouseStyle #WesternHomeDecor #LiveStock #WhiteCowPainting

Cow painting - Charolais ❤️🐮❤️
https://fineartamerica.com/featured/cow-painting-charolais-jan-matson.html

An oil painting of a beautiful, young white Charolais cow, 'Maureen'.

#Charolais #cows #CowsOfMastodon #CuteAnimals #cute #animals #JanMatson #art #artist #ArtistsOfMastodon #MastoArt #animal #KitchenArt
#FediGiftShop #painting #JanMatson #OilPainting #cow
#prints #AnimalArt #arte #FediArt #artwork #CowPainting #FarmAnimalArt #RusticArt #FarmhouseStyle #WesternHomeDecor #LiveStock #WhiteCowPainting

#Charolais/#Hereford Cross #cow and #calf

#Charolais/#Hereford Cross #cow and #calf

#Charolais/#Hereford Cross #cow and #calf

Maurice Leblanc - Arsene Lupin Part 22 of 99

CHAPTER VI AGAIN THE CHAROLAIS

Hardly had the door closed behind the millionaire when the head of M. Charolais appeared at one of the windows opening on to the terrace. He looked round the empty hall, whistled softly, and stepped inside. Inside of ten seconds his three sons came in through the windows, and with them came Jean, the millionaire’s chauffeur.
“Take the door into the outer hall, Jean,” said M. Charolais, in a low voice. “Bernard, take that door into the drawing-room. Pierre and Louis, help me go through the drawers. The whole family is going to Paris, and if we’re not quick we shan’t get the cars.”
“That comes of this silly fondness for warning people of a coup,” growled Jean, as he hurried to the door of the outer hall. “It would have been so simple to rob the Paris house without sending that infernal letter. It was sure to knock them all silly.”
“What harm can the letter do, you fool?” said M. Charolais. “It’s Sunday. We want them knocked silly for to-morrow, to get hold of the coronet. Oh, to get hold of that coronet! It must be in Paris. I’ve been ransacking this château for hours.”
Jean opened the door of the outer hall half an inch, and glued his eyes to it. Bernard had done the same with the door opening into the drawing-room. M. Charolais, Pierre, and Louis were opening drawers, ransacking them, and shutting them with infinite quickness and noiselessly.
“Bureau! Which is the bureau? The place is stuffed with bureaux!” growled M. Charolais. “I must have those keys.”
“That plain thing with the brass handles in the middle on the left—that’s a bureau,” said Bernard softly.
“Why didn’t you say so?” growled M. Charolais.
He dashed to it, and tried it. It was locked.
“Locked, of course! Just my luck! Come and get it open, Pierre. Be smart!”
The son he had described as an engineer came quickly to the bureau, fitting together as he came the two halves of a small jemmy. He fitted it into the top of the flap. There was a crunch, and the old lock gave. He opened the flap, and he and M. Charolais pulled open drawer after drawer.
“Quick! Here’s that fat old fool!” said Jean, in a hoarse, hissing whisper.
He moved down the hall, blowing out one of the lamps as he passed it. In the seventh drawer lay a bunch of keys. M. Charolais snatched it up, glanced at it, took a bunch of keys from his own pocket, put it in the drawer, closed it, closed the flap, and rushed to the window. Jean and his sons were already out on the terrace.
M. Charolais was still a yard from the window when the door into the outer hall opened and in came M. Gournay-Martin.
He caught a glimpse of a back vanishing through the window, and bellowed: “Hi! A man! A burglar! Firmin! Firmin!”
He ran blundering down the hall, tangled his feet in the fragments of the broken chair, and came sprawling a thundering cropper, which knocked every breath of wind out of his capacious body. He lay flat on his face for a couple of minutes, his broad back wriggling convulsively—a pathetic sight!—in the painful effort to get his breath back. Then he sat up, and with perfect frankness burst into tears. He sobbed and blubbered, like a small child that has hurt itself, for three or four minutes. Then, having recovered his magnificent voice, he bellowed furiously: “Firmin! Firmin! Charmerace! Charmerace!”
Then he rose painfully to his feet, and stood staring at the open windows.
Presently he roared again: “Firmin! Firmin! Charmerace! Charmerace!”
He kept looking at the window with terrified eyes, as though he expected somebody to step in and cut his throat from ear to ear.
“Firmin! Firmin! Charmerace! Charmerace!” he bellowed again.
The Duke came quietly into the hall, dressed in a heavy motor-coat, his motor-cap on his head, and carrying a kit-bag in his hand.
“Did I hear you call?” he said.
“Call?” said the millionaire. “I shouted. The burglars are here already. I’ve just seen one of them. He was bolting through the middle window.”
The Duke raised his eyebrows.
“Nerves,” he said gently—“nerves.”
“Nerves be hanged!” said the millionaire. “I tell you I saw him as plainly as I see you.”
“Well, you can’t see me at all, seeing that you’re lighting an acre and a half of hall with a single lamp,” said the Duke, still in a tone of utter incredulity.
“It’s that fool Firmin! He ought to have lighted six. Firmin! Firmin!” bellowed the millionaire.

#CHAROLAIS #M_Charolais #Jean #Bernard #Pierre #Louis #Paris #M_Gournay-Martin #Firmin #Charmerace #ArseneLupin #MauriceLeBlanc #mystery #booktoot

Maurice Leblanc - Arsene Lupin Part 22 of 99

CHAPTER VI AGAIN THE CHAROLAIS

Hardly had the door closed behind the millionaire when the head of M. Charolais appeared at one of the windows opening on to the terrace. He looked round the empty hall, whistled softly, and stepped inside. Inside of ten seconds his three sons came in through the windows, and with them came Jean, the millionaire’s chauffeur.
“Take the door into the outer hall, Jean,” said M. Charolais, in a low voice. “Bernard, take that door into the drawing-room. Pierre and Louis, help me go through the drawers. The whole family is going to Paris, and if we’re not quick we shan’t get the cars.”
“That comes of this silly fondness for warning people of a coup,” growled Jean, as he hurried to the door of the outer hall. “It would have been so simple to rob the Paris house without sending that infernal letter. It was sure to knock them all silly.”
“What harm can the letter do, you fool?” said M. Charolais. “It’s Sunday. We want them knocked silly for to-morrow, to get hold of the coronet. Oh, to get hold of that coronet! It must be in Paris. I’ve been ransacking this château for hours.”
Jean opened the door of the outer hall half an inch, and glued his eyes to it. Bernard had done the same with the door opening into the drawing-room. M. Charolais, Pierre, and Louis were opening drawers, ransacking them, and shutting them with infinite quickness and noiselessly.
“Bureau! Which is the bureau? The place is stuffed with bureaux!” growled M. Charolais. “I must have those keys.”
“That plain thing with the brass handles in the middle on the left—that’s a bureau,” said Bernard softly.
“Why didn’t you say so?” growled M. Charolais.
He dashed to it, and tried it. It was locked.
“Locked, of course! Just my luck! Come and get it open, Pierre. Be smart!”
The son he had described as an engineer came quickly to the bureau, fitting together as he came the two halves of a small jemmy. He fitted it into the top of the flap. There was a crunch, and the old lock gave. He opened the flap, and he and M. Charolais pulled open drawer after drawer.
“Quick! Here’s that fat old fool!” said Jean, in a hoarse, hissing whisper.
He moved down the hall, blowing out one of the lamps as he passed it. In the seventh drawer lay a bunch of keys. M. Charolais snatched it up, glanced at it, took a bunch of keys from his own pocket, put it in the drawer, closed it, closed the flap, and rushed to the window. Jean and his sons were already out on the terrace.
M. Charolais was still a yard from the window when the door into the outer hall opened and in came M. Gournay-Martin.
He caught a glimpse of a back vanishing through the window, and bellowed: “Hi! A man! A burglar! Firmin! Firmin!”
He ran blundering down the hall, tangled his feet in the fragments of the broken chair, and came sprawling a thundering cropper, which knocked every breath of wind out of his capacious body. He lay flat on his face for a couple of minutes, his broad back wriggling convulsively—a pathetic sight!—in the painful effort to get his breath back. Then he sat up, and with perfect frankness burst into tears. He sobbed and blubbered, like a small child that has hurt itself, for three or four minutes. Then, having recovered his magnificent voice, he bellowed furiously: “Firmin! Firmin! Charmerace! Charmerace!”
Then he rose painfully to his feet, and stood staring at the open windows.
Presently he roared again: “Firmin! Firmin! Charmerace! Charmerace!”
He kept looking at the window with terrified eyes, as though he expected somebody to step in and cut his throat from ear to ear.
“Firmin! Firmin! Charmerace! Charmerace!” he bellowed again.
The Duke came quietly into the hall, dressed in a heavy motor-coat, his motor-cap on his head, and carrying a kit-bag in his hand.
“Did I hear you call?” he said.
“Call?” said the millionaire. “I shouted. The burglars are here already. I’ve just seen one of them. He was bolting through the middle window.”
The Duke raised his eyebrows.
“Nerves,” he said gently—“nerves.”
“Nerves be hanged!” said the millionaire. “I tell you I saw him as plainly as I see you.”
“Well, you can’t see me at all, seeing that you’re lighting an acre and a half of hall with a single lamp,” said the Duke, still in a tone of utter incredulity.
“It’s that fool Firmin! He ought to have lighted six. Firmin! Firmin!” bellowed the millionaire.

#CHAROLAIS #M_Charolais #Jean #Bernard #Pierre #Louis #Paris #M_Gournay-Martin #Firmin #Charmerace #ArseneLupin #MauriceLeBlanc #mystery #booktoot

Maurice Leblanc - Arsene Lupin Part 18 of 99

CHAPTER V A LETTER FROM LUPIN

The Duke stood for a while staring thoughtfully at the door through which Sonia had passed, a faint smile playing round his lips. He crossed the hall to the Chippendale bureau, took a cigarette from a box which stood on the ledge of it, beside the morocco case which held the pendant, lighted it, and went slowly out on to the terrace. He crossed it slowly, paused for a moment on the edge of it, and looked across the stretch of country with musing eyes, which saw nothing of its beauty. Then he turned to the right, went down a flight of steps to the lower terrace, crossed the lawn, and took a narrow path which led into the heart of a shrubbery of tall deodoras. In the middle of it he came to one of those old stone benches, moss-covered and weather-stained, which adorn the gardens of so many French châteaux. It faced a marble basin from which rose the slender column of a pattering fountain. The figure of a Cupid danced joyously on a tall pedestal to the right of the basin. The Duke sat down on the bench, and was still, with that rare stillness which only comes of nerves in perfect harmony, his brow knitted in careful thought. Now and again the frown cleared from his face, and his intent features relaxed into a faint smile, a smile of pleasant memory. Once he rose, walked round the fountains frowning, came back to the bench, and sat down again. The early September dusk was upon him when at last he rose and with quick steps took his way through the shrubbery, with the air of a man whose mind, for good or ill, was at last made up.
When he came on to the upper terrace his eyes fell on a group which stood at the further corner, near the entrance of the château, and he sauntered slowly up to it.
In the middle of it stood M. Gournay-Martin, a big, round, flabby hulk of a man. He was nearly as red in the face as M. Charolais; and he looked a great deal redder owing to the extreme whiteness of the whiskers which stuck out on either side of his vast expanse of cheek. As he came up, it struck the Duke as rather odd that he should have the Charolais eyes, set close together; any one who did not know that they were strangers to one another might have thought it a family likeness.
The millionaire was waving his hands and roaring after the manner of a man who has cultivated the art of brow-beating those with whom he does business; and as the Duke neared the group, he caught the words:
“No; that’s the lowest I’ll take. Take it or leave it. You can say Yes, or you can say Good-bye; and I don’t care a hang which.”
“It’s very dear,” said M. Charolais, in a mournful tone.
“Dear!” roared M. Gournay-Martin. “I should like to see any one else sell a hundred horse-power car for eight hundred pounds. Why, my good sir, you’re having me!”
“No, no,” protested M. Charolais feebly.
“I tell you you’re having me,” roared M. Gournay-Martin. “I’m letting you have a magnificent car for which I paid thirteen hundred pounds for eight hundred! It’s scandalous the way you’ve beaten me down!”
“No, no,” protested M. Charolais.
He seemed frightened out of his life by the vehemence of the big man.
“You wait till you’ve seen how it goes,” said M. Gournay-Martin.
“Eight hundred is very dear,” said M. Charolais.
“Come, come! You’re too sharp, that’s what you are. But don’t say any more till you’ve tried the car.”
He turned to his chauffeur, who stood by watching the struggle with an appreciative grin on his brown face, and said: “Now, Jean, take these gentlemen to the garage, and run them down to the station. Show them what the car can do. Do whatever they ask you—everything.”
He winked at Jean, turned again to M. Charolais, and said: “You know, M. Charolais, you’re too good a man of business for me. You’re hot stuff, that’s what you are—hot stuff. You go along and try the car. Good-bye—good-bye.”
The four Charolais murmured good-bye in deep depression, and went off with Jean, wearing something of the air of whipped dogs. When they had gone round the corner the millionaire turned to the Duke and said, with a chuckle: “He’ll buy the car all right—had him fine!”
“No business success of yours could surprise me,” said the Duke blandly, with a faint, ironical smile.
M. Gournay-Martin’s little pig’s eyes danced and sparkled; and the smiles flowed over the distended skin of his face like little ripples over a stagnant pool, reluctantly. It seemed to be too tightly stretched for smiles.

#CHAPTERV #Sonia #Chippendale #French #Cupid #M_Gournay-Martin #M_Charolais #Charolais #eighthundredpounds #thirteenhundredpounds #Jean #M_Gournay-Martin’s #ArseneLupin #MauriceLeBlanc #mystery #booktoot

Maurice Leblanc - Arsene Lupin Part 18 of 99

CHAPTER V A LETTER FROM LUPIN

The Duke stood for a while staring thoughtfully at the door through which Sonia had passed, a faint smile playing round his lips. He crossed the hall to the Chippendale bureau, took a cigarette from a box which stood on the ledge of it, beside the morocco case which held the pendant, lighted it, and went slowly out on to the terrace. He crossed it slowly, paused for a moment on the edge of it, and looked across the stretch of country with musing eyes, which saw nothing of its beauty. Then he turned to the right, went down a flight of steps to the lower terrace, crossed the lawn, and took a narrow path which led into the heart of a shrubbery of tall deodoras. In the middle of it he came to one of those old stone benches, moss-covered and weather-stained, which adorn the gardens of so many French châteaux. It faced a marble basin from which rose the slender column of a pattering fountain. The figure of a Cupid danced joyously on a tall pedestal to the right of the basin. The Duke sat down on the bench, and was still, with that rare stillness which only comes of nerves in perfect harmony, his brow knitted in careful thought. Now and again the frown cleared from his face, and his intent features relaxed into a faint smile, a smile of pleasant memory. Once he rose, walked round the fountains frowning, came back to the bench, and sat down again. The early September dusk was upon him when at last he rose and with quick steps took his way through the shrubbery, with the air of a man whose mind, for good or ill, was at last made up.
When he came on to the upper terrace his eyes fell on a group which stood at the further corner, near the entrance of the château, and he sauntered slowly up to it.
In the middle of it stood M. Gournay-Martin, a big, round, flabby hulk of a man. He was nearly as red in the face as M. Charolais; and he looked a great deal redder owing to the extreme whiteness of the whiskers which stuck out on either side of his vast expanse of cheek. As he came up, it struck the Duke as rather odd that he should have the Charolais eyes, set close together; any one who did not know that they were strangers to one another might have thought it a family likeness.
The millionaire was waving his hands and roaring after the manner of a man who has cultivated the art of brow-beating those with whom he does business; and as the Duke neared the group, he caught the words:
“No; that’s the lowest I’ll take. Take it or leave it. You can say Yes, or you can say Good-bye; and I don’t care a hang which.”
“It’s very dear,” said M. Charolais, in a mournful tone.
“Dear!” roared M. Gournay-Martin. “I should like to see any one else sell a hundred horse-power car for eight hundred pounds. Why, my good sir, you’re having me!”
“No, no,” protested M. Charolais feebly.
“I tell you you’re having me,” roared M. Gournay-Martin. “I’m letting you have a magnificent car for which I paid thirteen hundred pounds for eight hundred! It’s scandalous the way you’ve beaten me down!”
“No, no,” protested M. Charolais.
He seemed frightened out of his life by the vehemence of the big man.
“You wait till you’ve seen how it goes,” said M. Gournay-Martin.
“Eight hundred is very dear,” said M. Charolais.
“Come, come! You’re too sharp, that’s what you are. But don’t say any more till you’ve tried the car.”
He turned to his chauffeur, who stood by watching the struggle with an appreciative grin on his brown face, and said: “Now, Jean, take these gentlemen to the garage, and run them down to the station. Show them what the car can do. Do whatever they ask you—everything.”
He winked at Jean, turned again to M. Charolais, and said: “You know, M. Charolais, you’re too good a man of business for me. You’re hot stuff, that’s what you are—hot stuff. You go along and try the car. Good-bye—good-bye.”
The four Charolais murmured good-bye in deep depression, and went off with Jean, wearing something of the air of whipped dogs. When they had gone round the corner the millionaire turned to the Duke and said, with a chuckle: “He’ll buy the car all right—had him fine!”
“No business success of yours could surprise me,” said the Duke blandly, with a faint, ironical smile.
M. Gournay-Martin’s little pig’s eyes danced and sparkled; and the smiles flowed over the distended skin of his face like little ripples over a stagnant pool, reluctantly. It seemed to be too tightly stretched for smiles.

#CHAPTERV #Sonia #Chippendale #French #Cupid #M_Gournay-Martin #M_Charolais #Charolais #eighthundredpounds #thirteenhundredpounds #Jean #M_Gournay-Martin’s #ArseneLupin #MauriceLeBlanc #mystery #booktoot

Maurice Leblanc - Arsene Lupin Part 15 of 99

CHAPTER IV THE DUKE INTERVENES

The Duke rose, came to the window, and looked at the broken pane. He stepped out on to the terrace and looked at the turf; then he came back into the room.
“This looks serious,” he said. “That pane has not been broken at all. If it had been broken, the pieces of glass would be lying on the turf. It has been cut out. We must warn your father to look to his treasures.”
“I told you so,” said Germaine. “I said that Arsène Lupin was in the neighbourhood.”
“Arsène Lupin is a very capable man,” said the Duke, smiling. “But there’s no reason to suppose that he’s the only burglar in France or even in Ile-et-Vilaine.”
“I’m sure that he’s in the neighbourhood. I have a feeling that he is,” said Germaine stubbornly.
The Duke shrugged his shoulders, and said a smile: “Far be it from me to contradict you. A woman’s intuition is always—well, it’s always a woman’s intuition.”
He came back into the hall, and as he did so the door opened and a shock-headed man in the dress of a gamekeeper stood on the threshold.
“There are visitors to see you, Mademoiselle Germaine,” he said, in a very deep bass voice.
“What! Are you answering the door, Firmin?” said Germaine.
“Yes, Mademoiselle Germaine: there’s only me to do it. All the servants have started for the station, and my wife and I are going to see after the family to-night and to-morrow morning. Shall I show these gentlemen in?”
“Who are they?” said Germaine.
“Two gentlemen who say they have an appointment.”
“What are their names?” said Germaine.
“They are two gentlemen. I don’t know what their names are. I’ve no memory for names.”
“That’s an advantage to any one who answers doors,” said the Duke, smiling at the stolid Firmin.
“Well, it can’t be the two Charolais again. It’s not time for them to come back. I told them papa would not be back yet,” said Germaine.
“No, it can’t be them, Mademoiselle Germaine,” said Firmin, with decision.
“Very well; show them in,” she said.
Firmin went out, leaving the door open behind him; and they heard his hob-nailed boots clatter and squeak on the stone floor of the outer hall.
“Charolais?” said the Duke idly. “I don’t know the name. Who are they?”
“A little while ago Alfred announced two gentlemen. I thought they were Georges and Andre du Buit, for they promised to come to tea. I told Alfred to show them in, and to my surprise there appeared two horrible provincials. I never—Oh!”
She stopped short, for there, coming through the door, were the two Charolais, father and son.
M. Charolais pressed his motor-cap to his bosom, and bowed low. “Once more I salute you, mademoiselle,” he said.
His son bowed, and revealed behind him another young man.
“My second son. He has a chemist’s shop,” said M. Charolais, waving a large red hand at the young man.
The young man, also blessed with the family eyes, set close together, entered the hall and bowed to the two girls. The Duke raised his eyebrows ever so slightly.
“I’m very sorry, gentlemen,” said Germaine, “but my father has not yet returned.”
“Please don’t apologize. There is not the slightest need,” said M. Charolais; and he and his two sons settled themselves down on three chairs, with the air of people who had come to make a considerable stay.
For a moment, Germaine, taken aback by their coolness, was speechless; then she said hastily: “Very likely he won’t be back for another hour. I shouldn’t like you to waste your time.”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” said M. Charolais, with an indulgent air; and turning to the Duke, he added, “However, while we’re waiting, if you’re a member of the family, sir, we might perhaps discuss the least you will take for the motor-car.”
“I’m sorry,” said the Duke, “but I have nothing to do with it.”
Before M. Charolais could reply the door opened, and Firmin’s deep voice said:
“Will you please come in here, sir?”
A third young man came into the hall.
“What, you here, Bernard?” said M. Charolais. “I told you to wait at the park gates.”
“I wanted to see the car too,” said Bernard.
“My third son. He is destined for the Bar,” said M. Charolais, with a great air of paternal pride.
“But how many are there?” said Germaine faintly.
Before M. Charolais could answer, Firmin once more appeared on the threshold.
“The master’s just come back, miss,” he said.
“Thank goodness for that!” said Germaine; and turning to M. Charolais, she added, “If you will come with me, gentlemen, I will take you to my father, and you can discuss the price of the car at once.”

#CHAPTERIV #Germaine #ArsèneLupin #France #MademoiselleGermaine #Firmin #Charolais #Alfred #Georges #AndreduBuit #M_Charolais #Bernard #ArseneLupin #MauriceLeBlanc #mystery #booktoot

Maurice Leblanc - Arsene Lupin Part 15 of 99

CHAPTER IV THE DUKE INTERVENES

The Duke rose, came to the window, and looked at the broken pane. He stepped out on to the terrace and looked at the turf; then he came back into the room.
“This looks serious,” he said. “That pane has not been broken at all. If it had been broken, the pieces of glass would be lying on the turf. It has been cut out. We must warn your father to look to his treasures.”
“I told you so,” said Germaine. “I said that Arsène Lupin was in the neighbourhood.”
“Arsène Lupin is a very capable man,” said the Duke, smiling. “But there’s no reason to suppose that he’s the only burglar in France or even in Ile-et-Vilaine.”
“I’m sure that he’s in the neighbourhood. I have a feeling that he is,” said Germaine stubbornly.
The Duke shrugged his shoulders, and said a smile: “Far be it from me to contradict you. A woman’s intuition is always—well, it’s always a woman’s intuition.”
He came back into the hall, and as he did so the door opened and a shock-headed man in the dress of a gamekeeper stood on the threshold.
“There are visitors to see you, Mademoiselle Germaine,” he said, in a very deep bass voice.
“What! Are you answering the door, Firmin?” said Germaine.
“Yes, Mademoiselle Germaine: there’s only me to do it. All the servants have started for the station, and my wife and I are going to see after the family to-night and to-morrow morning. Shall I show these gentlemen in?”
“Who are they?” said Germaine.
“Two gentlemen who say they have an appointment.”
“What are their names?” said Germaine.
“They are two gentlemen. I don’t know what their names are. I’ve no memory for names.”
“That’s an advantage to any one who answers doors,” said the Duke, smiling at the stolid Firmin.
“Well, it can’t be the two Charolais again. It’s not time for them to come back. I told them papa would not be back yet,” said Germaine.
“No, it can’t be them, Mademoiselle Germaine,” said Firmin, with decision.
“Very well; show them in,” she said.
Firmin went out, leaving the door open behind him; and they heard his hob-nailed boots clatter and squeak on the stone floor of the outer hall.
“Charolais?” said the Duke idly. “I don’t know the name. Who are they?”
“A little while ago Alfred announced two gentlemen. I thought they were Georges and Andre du Buit, for they promised to come to tea. I told Alfred to show them in, and to my surprise there appeared two horrible provincials. I never—Oh!”
She stopped short, for there, coming through the door, were the two Charolais, father and son.
M. Charolais pressed his motor-cap to his bosom, and bowed low. “Once more I salute you, mademoiselle,” he said.
His son bowed, and revealed behind him another young man.
“My second son. He has a chemist’s shop,” said M. Charolais, waving a large red hand at the young man.
The young man, also blessed with the family eyes, set close together, entered the hall and bowed to the two girls. The Duke raised his eyebrows ever so slightly.
“I’m very sorry, gentlemen,” said Germaine, “but my father has not yet returned.”
“Please don’t apologize. There is not the slightest need,” said M. Charolais; and he and his two sons settled themselves down on three chairs, with the air of people who had come to make a considerable stay.
For a moment, Germaine, taken aback by their coolness, was speechless; then she said hastily: “Very likely he won’t be back for another hour. I shouldn’t like you to waste your time.”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” said M. Charolais, with an indulgent air; and turning to the Duke, he added, “However, while we’re waiting, if you’re a member of the family, sir, we might perhaps discuss the least you will take for the motor-car.”
“I’m sorry,” said the Duke, “but I have nothing to do with it.”
Before M. Charolais could reply the door opened, and Firmin’s deep voice said:
“Will you please come in here, sir?”
A third young man came into the hall.
“What, you here, Bernard?” said M. Charolais. “I told you to wait at the park gates.”
“I wanted to see the car too,” said Bernard.
“My third son. He is destined for the Bar,” said M. Charolais, with a great air of paternal pride.
“But how many are there?” said Germaine faintly.
Before M. Charolais could answer, Firmin once more appeared on the threshold.
“The master’s just come back, miss,” he said.
“Thank goodness for that!” said Germaine; and turning to M. Charolais, she added, “If you will come with me, gentlemen, I will take you to my father, and you can discuss the price of the car at once.”

#CHAPTERIV #Germaine #ArsèneLupin #France #MademoiselleGermaine #Firmin #Charolais #Alfred #Georges #AndreduBuit #M_Charolais #Bernard #ArseneLupin #MauriceLeBlanc #mystery #booktoot

Maurice Leblanc - Arsene Lupin Part 8 of 99

“Yes, my boy; it’s a very fine château,” said M. Charolais, looking round the hall with appreciative but greedy eyes.
There was a pause.
“It’s a very fine château, young ladies,” said M. Charolais.
“Yes; but excuse me, what is it you have called about?” said Germaine.
M. Charolais crossed his legs, leant back in his chair, thrust his thumbs into the arm-holes of his waistcoat, and said: “Well, we’ve come about the advertisement we saw in the RENNES ADVERTISER, that M. Gournay-Martin wanted to get rid of a motor-car; and my son is always saying to me, ‘I should like a motor-car which rushes the hills, papa.’ He means a sixty horse-power.”
“We’ve got a sixty horse-power; but it’s not for sale. My father is even using it himself to-day,” said Germaine.
“Perhaps it’s the car we saw in the stable-yard,” said M. Charolais.
“No; that’s a thirty to forty horse-power. It belongs to me. But if your son really loves rushing hills, as you say, we have a hundred horse-power car which my father wants to get rid of. Wait; where’s the photograph of it, Sonia? It ought to be here somewhere.”
The two girls rose, went to a table set against the wall beyond the window, and began turning over the papers with which it was loaded in the search for the photograph. They had barely turned their backs, when the hand of young Charolais shot out as swiftly as the tongue of a lizard catching a fly, closed round the silver statuette on the top of the cabinet beside him, and flashed it into his jacket pocket.
Charolais was watching the two girls; one would have said that he had eyes for nothing else, yet, without moving a muscle of his face, set in its perpetual beaming smile, he hissed in an angry whisper, “Drop it, you idiot! Put it back!”
The young man scowled askance at him.
“Curse you! Put it back!” hissed Charolais.
The young man’s arm shot out with the same quickness, and the statuette stood in its place.
There was just the faintest sigh of relief from Charolais, as Germaine turned and came to him with the photograph in her hand. She gave it to him.
“Ah, here we are,” he said, putting on a pair of gold-rimmed pince-nez. “A hundred horse-power car. Well, well, this is something to talk over. What’s the least you’ll take for it?”
“I have nothing to do with this kind of thing,” cried Germaine. “You must see my father. He will be back from Rennes soon. Then you can settle the matter with him.”
M. Charolais rose, and said: “Very good. We will go now, and come back presently. I’m sorry to have intruded on you, young ladies—taking up your time like this—”
“Not at all—not at all,” murmured Germaine politely.
“Good-bye—good-bye,” said M. Charolais; and he and his son went to the door, and bowed themselves out.
“What creatures!” said Germaine, going to the window, as the door closed behind the two visitors. “All the same, if they do buy the hundred horse-power, papa will be awfully pleased. It is odd about that pane. I wonder how it happened. It’s odd too that Jacques hasn’t come back yet. He told me that he would be here between half-past four and five.”
“And the Du Buits have not come either,” said Sonia. “But it’s hardly five yet.”
“Yes; that’s so. The Du Buits have not come either. What on earth are you wasting your time for?” she added sharply, raising her voice. “Just finish addressing those letters while you’re waiting.”
“They’re nearly finished,” said Sonia.
“Nearly isn’t quite. Get on with them, can’t you!” snapped Germaine.
Sonia went back to the writing-table; just the slightest deepening of the faint pink roses in her cheeks marked her sense of Germaine’s rudeness. After three years as companion to Germaine Gournay-Martin, she was well inured to millionaire manners; they had almost lost the power to move her.
Germaine dropped into a chair for twenty seconds; then flung out of it.
“Ten minutes to five!” she cried. “Jacques is late. It’s the first time I’ve ever known him late.”
She went to the window, and looked across the wide stretch of meadow-land and woodland on which the château, set on the very crown of the ridge, looked down. The road, running with the irritating straightness of so many of the roads of France, was visible for a full three miles. It was empty.

#M_Charolais #Germaine #M_Gournay-Martin #Sonia #Charolais #Rennes #Jacques #GermaineGournay-Martin #France #threemiles #ArseneLupin #MauriceLeBlanc #mystery #booktoot

Maurice Leblanc - Arsene Lupin Part 8 of 99

“Yes, my boy; it’s a very fine château,” said M. Charolais, looking round the hall with appreciative but greedy eyes.
There was a pause.
“It’s a very fine château, young ladies,” said M. Charolais.
“Yes; but excuse me, what is it you have called about?” said Germaine.
M. Charolais crossed his legs, leant back in his chair, thrust his thumbs into the arm-holes of his waistcoat, and said: “Well, we’ve come about the advertisement we saw in the RENNES ADVERTISER, that M. Gournay-Martin wanted to get rid of a motor-car; and my son is always saying to me, ‘I should like a motor-car which rushes the hills, papa.’ He means a sixty horse-power.”
“We’ve got a sixty horse-power; but it’s not for sale. My father is even using it himself to-day,” said Germaine.
“Perhaps it’s the car we saw in the stable-yard,” said M. Charolais.
“No; that’s a thirty to forty horse-power. It belongs to me. But if your son really loves rushing hills, as you say, we have a hundred horse-power car which my father wants to get rid of. Wait; where’s the photograph of it, Sonia? It ought to be here somewhere.”
The two girls rose, went to a table set against the wall beyond the window, and began turning over the papers with which it was loaded in the search for the photograph. They had barely turned their backs, when the hand of young Charolais shot out as swiftly as the tongue of a lizard catching a fly, closed round the silver statuette on the top of the cabinet beside him, and flashed it into his jacket pocket.
Charolais was watching the two girls; one would have said that he had eyes for nothing else, yet, without moving a muscle of his face, set in its perpetual beaming smile, he hissed in an angry whisper, “Drop it, you idiot! Put it back!”
The young man scowled askance at him.
“Curse you! Put it back!” hissed Charolais.
The young man’s arm shot out with the same quickness, and the statuette stood in its place.
There was just the faintest sigh of relief from Charolais, as Germaine turned and came to him with the photograph in her hand. She gave it to him.
“Ah, here we are,” he said, putting on a pair of gold-rimmed pince-nez. “A hundred horse-power car. Well, well, this is something to talk over. What’s the least you’ll take for it?”
“I have nothing to do with this kind of thing,” cried Germaine. “You must see my father. He will be back from Rennes soon. Then you can settle the matter with him.”
M. Charolais rose, and said: “Very good. We will go now, and come back presently. I’m sorry to have intruded on you, young ladies—taking up your time like this—”
“Not at all—not at all,” murmured Germaine politely.
“Good-bye—good-bye,” said M. Charolais; and he and his son went to the door, and bowed themselves out.
“What creatures!” said Germaine, going to the window, as the door closed behind the two visitors. “All the same, if they do buy the hundred horse-power, papa will be awfully pleased. It is odd about that pane. I wonder how it happened. It’s odd too that Jacques hasn’t come back yet. He told me that he would be here between half-past four and five.”
“And the Du Buits have not come either,” said Sonia. “But it’s hardly five yet.”
“Yes; that’s so. The Du Buits have not come either. What on earth are you wasting your time for?” she added sharply, raising her voice. “Just finish addressing those letters while you’re waiting.”
“They’re nearly finished,” said Sonia.
“Nearly isn’t quite. Get on with them, can’t you!” snapped Germaine.
Sonia went back to the writing-table; just the slightest deepening of the faint pink roses in her cheeks marked her sense of Germaine’s rudeness. After three years as companion to Germaine Gournay-Martin, she was well inured to millionaire manners; they had almost lost the power to move her.
Germaine dropped into a chair for twenty seconds; then flung out of it.
“Ten minutes to five!” she cried. “Jacques is late. It’s the first time I’ve ever known him late.”
She went to the window, and looked across the wide stretch of meadow-land and woodland on which the château, set on the very crown of the ridge, looked down. The road, running with the irritating straightness of so many of the roads of France, was visible for a full three miles. It was empty.

#M_Charolais #Germaine #M_Gournay-Martin #Sonia #Charolais #Rennes #Jacques #GermaineGournay-Martin #France #threemiles #ArseneLupin #MauriceLeBlanc #mystery #booktoot

Maurice Leblanc - Arsene Lupin Part 7 of 99

CHAPTER II THE COMING OF THE CHAROLAIS

Sonia went back to her table, and once more began putting wedding-cards in their envelopes and addressing them. Germaine moved restlessly about the room, fidgeting with the bric-a-brac on the cabinets, shifting the pieces about, interrupting Sonia to ask whether she preferred this arrangement or that, throwing herself into a chair to read a magazine, getting up in a couple of minutes to straighten a picture on the wall, throwing out all the while idle questions not worth answering. Ninety-nine human beings would have been irritated to exasperation by her fidgeting; Sonia endured it with a perfect patience. Five times Germaine asked her whether she should wear her heliotrope or her pink gown at a forthcoming dinner at Madame de Relzières’. Five times Sonia said, without the slightest variation in her tone, “I think you look better in the pink.” And all the while the pile of addressed envelopes rose steadily.
Presently the door opened, and Alfred stood on the threshold.
“Two gentlemen have called to see you, miss,” he said.
“Ah, the two Du Buits,” cried Germaine.
“They didn’t give their names, miss.”
“A gentleman in the prime of life and a younger one?” said Germaine.
“Yes, miss.”
“I thought so. Show them in.”
“Yes, miss. And have you any orders for me to give Victoire when we get to Paris?” said Alfred.
“No. Are you starting soon?”
“Yes, miss. We’re all going by the seven o’clock train. It’s a long way from here to Paris; we shall only reach it at nine in the morning. That will give us just time to get the house ready for you by the time you get there to-morrow evening,” said Alfred.
“Is everything packed?”
“Yes, miss—everything. The cart has already taken the heavy luggage to the station. All you’ll have to do is to see after your bags.”
“That’s all right. Show M. du Buit and his brother in,” said Germaine.
She moved to a chair near the window, and disposed herself in an attitude of studied, and obviously studied, grace.
As she leant her head at a charming angle back against the tall back of the chair, her eyes fell on the window, and they opened wide.
“Why, whatever’s this?” she cried, pointing to it.
“Whatever’s what?” said Sonia, without raising her eyes from the envelope she was addressing.
“Why, the window. Look! one of the panes has been taken out. It looks as if it had been cut.”
“So it has—just at the level of the fastening,” said Sonia. And the two girls stared at the gap.
“Haven’t you noticed it before?” said Germaine.
“No; the broken glass must have fallen outside,” said Sonia.
The noise of the opening of the door drew their attention from the window. Two figures were advancing towards them—a short, round, tubby man of fifty-five, red-faced, bald, with bright grey eyes, which seemed to be continually dancing away from meeting the eyes of any other human being. Behind him came a slim young man, dark and grave. For all the difference in their colouring, it was clear that they were father and son: their eyes were set so close together. The son seemed to have inherited, along with her black eyes, his mother’s nose, thin and aquiline; the nose of the father started thin from the brow, but ended in a scarlet bulb eloquent of an exhaustive acquaintance with the vintages of the world.
Germaine rose, looking at them with an air of some surprise and uncertainty: these were not her friends, the Du Buits.
The elder man, advancing with a smiling bonhomie, bowed, and said in an adenoid voice, ingratiating of tone: “I’m M. Charolais, young ladies—M. Charolais—retired brewer—chevalier of the Legion of Honour—landowner at Rennes. Let me introduce my son.” The young man bowed awkwardly. “We came from Rennes this morning, and we lunched at Kerlor’s farm.”
“Shall I order tea for them?” whispered Sonia.
“Gracious, no!” said Germaine sharply under her breath; then, louder, she said to M. Charolais, “And what is your object in calling?”
“We asked to see your father,” said M. Charolais, smiling with broad amiability, while his eyes danced across her face, avoiding any meeting with hers. “The footman told us that M. Gournay-Martin was out, but that his daughter was at home. And we were unable, quite unable, to deny ourselves the pleasure of meeting you.” With that he sat down; and his son followed his example.
Sonia and Germaine, taken aback, looked at one another in some perplexity.
“What a fine château, papa!” said the young man.

#CHAPTERII #CHAROLAIS #Germaine #Sonia #MadamedeRelzières’ #Alfred #DuBuits #Paris #M_Charolais #LegionofHonour #Rennes #Kerlor #M_Gournay-Martin #ArseneLupin #MauriceLeBlanc #mystery #booktoot

Maurice Leblanc - Arsene Lupin Part 7 of 99

CHAPTER II THE COMING OF THE CHAROLAIS

Sonia went back to her table, and once more began putting wedding-cards in their envelopes and addressing them. Germaine moved restlessly about the room, fidgeting with the bric-a-brac on the cabinets, shifting the pieces about, interrupting Sonia to ask whether she preferred this arrangement or that, throwing herself into a chair to read a magazine, getting up in a couple of minutes to straighten a picture on the wall, throwing out all the while idle questions not worth answering. Ninety-nine human beings would have been irritated to exasperation by her fidgeting; Sonia endured it with a perfect patience. Five times Germaine asked her whether she should wear her heliotrope or her pink gown at a forthcoming dinner at Madame de Relzières’. Five times Sonia said, without the slightest variation in her tone, “I think you look better in the pink.” And all the while the pile of addressed envelopes rose steadily.
Presently the door opened, and Alfred stood on the threshold.
“Two gentlemen have called to see you, miss,” he said.
“Ah, the two Du Buits,” cried Germaine.
“They didn’t give their names, miss.”
“A gentleman in the prime of life and a younger one?” said Germaine.
“Yes, miss.”
“I thought so. Show them in.”
“Yes, miss. And have you any orders for me to give Victoire when we get to Paris?” said Alfred.
“No. Are you starting soon?”
“Yes, miss. We’re all going by the seven o’clock train. It’s a long way from here to Paris; we shall only reach it at nine in the morning. That will give us just time to get the house ready for you by the time you get there to-morrow evening,” said Alfred.
“Is everything packed?”
“Yes, miss—everything. The cart has already taken the heavy luggage to the station. All you’ll have to do is to see after your bags.”
“That’s all right. Show M. du Buit and his brother in,” said Germaine.
She moved to a chair near the window, and disposed herself in an attitude of studied, and obviously studied, grace.
As she leant her head at a charming angle back against the tall back of the chair, her eyes fell on the window, and they opened wide.
“Why, whatever’s this?” she cried, pointing to it.
“Whatever’s what?” said Sonia, without raising her eyes from the envelope she was addressing.
“Why, the window. Look! one of the panes has been taken out. It looks as if it had been cut.”
“So it has—just at the level of the fastening,” said Sonia. And the two girls stared at the gap.
“Haven’t you noticed it before?” said Germaine.
“No; the broken glass must have fallen outside,” said Sonia.
The noise of the opening of the door drew their attention from the window. Two figures were advancing towards them—a short, round, tubby man of fifty-five, red-faced, bald, with bright grey eyes, which seemed to be continually dancing away from meeting the eyes of any other human being. Behind him came a slim young man, dark and grave. For all the difference in their colouring, it was clear that they were father and son: their eyes were set so close together. The son seemed to have inherited, along with her black eyes, his mother’s nose, thin and aquiline; the nose of the father started thin from the brow, but ended in a scarlet bulb eloquent of an exhaustive acquaintance with the vintages of the world.
Germaine rose, looking at them with an air of some surprise and uncertainty: these were not her friends, the Du Buits.
The elder man, advancing with a smiling bonhomie, bowed, and said in an adenoid voice, ingratiating of tone: “I’m M. Charolais, young ladies—M. Charolais—retired brewer—chevalier of the Legion of Honour—landowner at Rennes. Let me introduce my son.” The young man bowed awkwardly. “We came from Rennes this morning, and we lunched at Kerlor’s farm.”
“Shall I order tea for them?” whispered Sonia.
“Gracious, no!” said Germaine sharply under her breath; then, louder, she said to M. Charolais, “And what is your object in calling?”
“We asked to see your father,” said M. Charolais, smiling with broad amiability, while his eyes danced across her face, avoiding any meeting with hers. “The footman told us that M. Gournay-Martin was out, but that his daughter was at home. And we were unable, quite unable, to deny ourselves the pleasure of meeting you.” With that he sat down; and his son followed his example.
Sonia and Germaine, taken aback, looked at one another in some perplexity.
“What a fine château, papa!” said the young man.

#CHAPTERII #CHAROLAIS #Germaine #Sonia #MadamedeRelzières’ #Alfred #DuBuits #Paris #M_Charolais #LegionofHonour #Rennes #Kerlor #M_Gournay-Martin #ArseneLupin #MauriceLeBlanc #mystery #booktoot

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