#sonia — Public Fediverse posts

https://www.europesays.com/it/496369/ Sonia Bruganelli in ospedale per la figlia e l’attacca all’ex collaboratore #attacco #autore #bonolis #bruganelli #Celebrità #Celebrities #delicato #Entertainment #figlia #guerriera #Intrattenimento #IT #Italia #Italy #marco #MarcoSalvati #matrimonio #messaggi #motivi #MotiviRancore #ospedale #paolo #PaoloBonolis #persona #piccola #PiccolaGuerriera #produttrice #salvati #sonia #SoniaBruganelli

#STEVEN #DAVIDOFF #SOLOMON chatgpt.com?prompt=Analy... #SONIA #KATYAL semantic-search.allgraph.ro/advanced-sea... Semantic SEO: The Bridge between Humans and Artificial Intelligence. Do you like AÉPIOT ( #aePiot ) semantics? Donate to the aéPiot semantic platform: www.paypal.com/donate?busin...

ChatGPT

#STEVEN #DAVIDOFF #SOLOMON chatgpt.com?prompt=Analy... #SONIA #KATYAL semantic-search.allgraph.ro/advanced-sea... Semantic SEO: The Bridge between Humans and Artificial Intelligence. Do you like AÉPIOT ( #aePiot ) semantics? Donate to the aéPiot semantic platform: www.paypal.com/donate?busin...

ChatGPT

#SAINT #MARTIAL #SCHOOL aepiot.com/advanced-sea... #SONIA #KATYAL semantic-search.headlines-world.com/advanced-sea... Semantic BACKLINKS: The Bridge between Humans and Artificial Intelligence. Bridgy Fed: fed.brid.gy/bsky/globalv...

MultiSearch Tag Explorer

#SAINT #MARTIAL #SCHOOL aepiot.com/advanced-sea... #SONIA #KATYAL semantic-search.headlines-world.com/advanced-sea... Semantic BACKLINKS: The Bridge between Humans and Artificial Intelligence. Bridgy Fed: fed.brid.gy/bsky/globalv...

MultiSearch Tag Explorer

https://www.europesays.com/it/489200/ “Se dite dove sono sparisco di nuovo” #Cronaca #CronacaItaliana #CronacaItaliana #figli #friuli #IT #Italia #Italy #mamma #marito #News #Notizie #rintracciata #risolva #ritrovata #scomparsa #situazione #sonia #stanno #UltimeNotizie #UltimeNotizieENewsDiOggi #UltimeNotizieItalia #UltimeNotizie #UltimeNotizieEnewsDiOggi #UltimeNotizieItalia #vuole

creates semantic nodes and clusters #PURITY #TEST www.perplexity.ai/search/new?q... #SONIA #BONSPILLE #BOILEAU multi-search-tag-explorer.headlines-world.com/advanced-sea... AÉPIOT: INDEPENDENT SEMANTIC WEB 4.0 INFRASTRUCTURE (EST. 2009): aepiot.ro

Perplexity

creates semantic nodes and clusters #PURITY #TEST www.perplexity.ai/search/new?q... #SONIA #BONSPILLE #BOILEAU multi-search-tag-explorer.headlines-world.com/advanced-sea... AÉPIOT: INDEPENDENT SEMANTIC WEB 4.0 INFRASTRUCTURE (EST. 2009): aepiot.ro

Perplexity

https://www.europesays.com/people/53169/ Key Excerpts From the Supreme Court’s Secret Memos #Elena #EnvironmentalProtectionAgency #GlobalWarming #JohnGJr #JohnRoberts #Kagan #Roberts #Sonia #Sotomayor #SupremeCourt(US) #UnitedStatesPoliticsAndGovernment

⭕“Soutien total à #Nicolas et #Olivia ! Notre directeur de publication a été perquisitionné : nous sommes tous soumis à ce régime qui se durcit car la #France qui soutient #Israël a besoin de nous faire taire. La loi #Yadan sera discutée le 16/04,mobilisons-nous !” #Sonia, #contactujfp

RE: https://bsky.app/profile/did:plc:2cte4wipyk47qjujtxrskqcx/post/3miqunhoqhk2s

⭕“Soutien total à #Nicolas et #Olivia ! Notre directeur de publication a été perquisitionné : nous sommes tous soumis à ce régime qui se durcit car la #France qui soutient #Israël a besoin de nous faire taire. La loi #Yadan sera discutée le 16/04,mobilisons-nous !” #Sonia, #contactujfp

RE: https://bsky.app/profile/did:plc:2cte4wipyk47qjujtxrskqcx/post/3miqunhoqhk2s

⭕“Soutien total à #Nicolas et #Olivia ! Notre directeur de publication a été perquisitionné : nous sommes tous soumis à ce régime qui se durcit car la #France qui soutient #Israël a besoin de nous faire taire. La loi #Yadan sera discutée le 16/04,mobilisons-nous !” #Sonia, #contactujfp

RE: https://bsky.app/profile/did:plc:2cte4wipyk47qjujtxrskqcx/post/3miqunhoqhk2s

⭕“Soutien total à #Nicolas et #Olivia ! Notre directeur de publication a été perquisitionné : nous sommes tous soumis à ce régime qui se durcit car la #France qui soutient #Israël a besoin de nous faire taire. La loi #Yadan sera discutée le 16/04,mobilisons-nous !” #Sonia, #contactujfp

RE: https://bsky.app/profile/did:plc:2cte4wipyk47qjujtxrskqcx/post/3miqunhoqhk2s

Four-day OCD treatment offers new hope in New Zealand – No Such Thing as Normal

The hug came moments after Isabella had completed an intensive treatment for obse…
#NewsBeep #News #Mentalhealth #able #anyone #as #been #even #Family #first #fourday #Gray #greeted #hadnt #Health #hope #hug #in #Isabella #MentalHealth #might #new #no #Normal #ocd #Offers #person #remarkable #sonia #Sound #such #thing #this #treatment #UK #UnitedKingdom #when #with #years #zealand
https://www.newsbeep.com/uk/511380/

https://www.europesays.com/ie/418903/ Four-day OCD treatment offers new hope in New Zealand – No Such Thing as Normal #able #anyone #as #been #Éire #even #family #first #fourday #gray #greeted #hadnt #Health #Hope #hug #IE #in #Ireland #Isabella #MentalHealth #MentalHealth #might #New #no #Normal #OCD #Offers #person #remarkable #sonia #sound #such #thing #this #treatment #when #with #years #zealand

https://www.europesays.com/uk/870065/ Four-day OCD treatment offers new hope in New Zealand – No Such Thing as Normal #able #anyone #as #been #even #Family #First #fourday #Gray #greeted #hadnt #Health #Hope #hug #in #Isabella #MentalHealth #might #New #no #normal #ocd #Offers #person #remarkable #sonia #Sound #such #thing #this #treatment #UK #UnitedKingdom #when #with #years #Zealand

Four-day OCD treatment offers new hope in New Zealand – No Such Thing as Normal

The hug came moments after Isabella had completed an i…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Mentalhealth #able #anyone #as #been #even #family #first #fourday #Gray #greeted #hadnt #Health #Hope #hug #in #Isabella #MentalHealth #might #new #no #Normal #ocd #offers #person #remarkable #sonia #sound #such #thing #this #Treatment #when #with #years #zealand
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/562744/

Four-day OCD treatment offers new hope in New Zealand – No Such Thing as Normal

The hug came moments after Isabella had completed an i…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Mentalhealth #able #anyone #as #been #even #family #first #fourday #Gray #greeted #hadnt #Health #Hope #hug #in #Isabella #MentalHealth #might #new #no #Normal #ocd #offers #person #remarkable #sonia #sound #such #thing #this #Treatment #when #with #years #zealand
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/562744/

https://www.europesays.com/es/480612/ Sonia Bermúdez anuncia la lista para el España-Ucrania que se celebrará en El Arcángel #anuncia #arcangel #bermudez #celebrara #Deportes #ES #España #espanaucrania #lista #sonia #Spain #Sports

https://www.europesays.com/be-fr/55084/ La reine Mathilde rayonnante dans une robe en dentelle dorée lors du banquet d’Etat en Norvège : elle honore l’un de ses créateurs favoris (photos) #Armani #BanquetD'état #BE #BEFr #Belgique #Belgium #Celebrities #Celebrity #Divertissement #Entertainment #haakon #harald #mathilde #MetteMarit #Norvège #people #philippe #reine #robe #sonia

https://www.europesays.com/fr/660987/ Sonia Mabrouk brise enfin le silence : cette confidence sur le père de son bébé balaie la rumeur autour de… #«Le #autour #balaie #Bébé #brisé #cette #Confidence #DE #Divertissement #enfin #Entertainment #FR #France #l'a #mabrouk #père #Rumeur #silence #son #sonia #sur

https://www.europesays.com/es/329555/ Sonia Madoc, portazo a Selena ante su entrada en ‘GH DÚO’ tras su polémica separación #ante #Celebrities #duo #Entertainment #entrada #Entretenimiento #ES #España #Famosos #madoc #polémica #portazo #selena #separacion #sonia #Spain #tras

【耳舐めたっぷり】9時間ひたすら○リボ妹と交尾して！射精(だ)して！潮吹きさせて！～「妹」を愛するすべての人々に贈る～

CV: SONIA

https://www.dlsite.com/home/dlaf/=/aid/xLG3yYjG/url/https%3A%2F%2Fwww.dlsite.com%2Fmaniax%2Fwork%2F%3D%2Fproduct_id%2FRJ01522219.html

#ASMR #SONIA

https://www.gulfchannels.com/354620/ Paulina Gaitán, Conor Leslie, Sonia Aquino #Aquino #celebrities #Celebs #Conor #Gaitan #Leslie #ObsessedWithCelebrities #ObsessedWithCelebs #Paulina #Sonia

https://www.gulfchannels.com/354620/ Paulina Gaitán, Conor Leslie, Sonia Aquino #Aquino #celebrities #Celebs #Conor #Gaitan #Leslie #ObsessedWithCelebrities #ObsessedWithCelebs #Paulina #Sonia

https://www.europesays.com/es/260357/ Sonia y Selena se separan un año después de su regreso a los escenarios #Celebrities #Entertainment #Entretenimiento #ES #escenarios #España #Famosos #regreso #selena #separan #sonia #Spain

https://www.europesays.com/es/260006/ SEPARACIÓN SONIA Y SELENA | Adiós al mítico dúo: «Me molesta que me llame mentirosa» #adios #duo #Entertainment #Entretenimiento #ES #España #mitico #Music #Música #Pop #selena #sonia #Spain

https://www.europesays.com/es/259946/ RUPTURA MUSICAL | Adiós al mítico dúo formado por Sonia y la castellonense Selena: «Me molesta que me llame mentirosa» #adios #duo #Entertainment #Entretenimiento #ES #España #formado #mitico #Music #Música #reinas #selena #separacion #sonia #SoniaYSelena #Spain

https://www.europesays.com/es/240135/ la ruptura podría no ser amistosa #definitivamente #Entertainment #Entretenimiento #ES #España #se #selena #separan #sonia #Spain

美國最高法院辯論川普關稅，大法官不分保守自由派都質疑，財長：即使敗訴仍有對策

中央通訊社 2025-11-06 10:12:00 CST

Viral Kabar Duka, Putra Riza Shahab Meninggal Dunia di Usia 19 Hari 

#Terviral - #Kabar #duka datang dari #Riza Shahab dan sang istri, #Sonia Alattas. Putra kedua sang #aktor, #Ahmad Saaif bin Shahab mengembuskan napas terakhirnya di usia 19 hari, pada 21 September 2025.  Baca : Viral Video dan Biodata Erika Richardo: Seniman Muda yang Jadi Inspirasi Kabar Duka, Putra Riza Shahab Meninggal Dunia di Usia 19 Hari “Innalillahiwainnailahirajiun…

https://terviral.id/viral-kabar-duka-putra-riza-shahab-meninggal-dunia-di-usia-19-hari/

Viral Kabar Duka, Putra Riza Shahab Meninggal Dunia di Usia 19 Hari 

#Terviral - #Kabar #duka datang dari #Riza Shahab dan sang istri, #Sonia Alattas. Putra kedua sang #aktor, #Ahmad Saaif bin Shahab mengembuskan napas terakhirnya di usia 19 hari, pada 21 September 2025.  Baca : Viral Video dan Biodata Erika Richardo: Seniman Muda yang Jadi Inspirasi Kabar Duka, Putra Riza Shahab Meninggal Dunia di Usia 19 Hari “Innalillahiwainnailahirajiun…

https://terviral.id/viral-kabar-duka-putra-riza-shahab-meninggal-dunia-di-usia-19-hari/

"Be young, be foolish, be happy" - Sonia

The Sensational Epics is the answer to "who wrote this"; The Tams "who had the hit".

The song's been used in many adverts - bus passes, holidays and Persil washing powder. Which explains why Sonia's in (er) all black.

#TOTP #Sonia

Those trumpets sound remarkably synthesised.

Almost... like... they're... not... plugged in?!

#TOTP #Sonia

"You'll never stop me from loving you" - Sonia

She's only gone and done it!

The victory lap passed through the #TOTP studio, and the effervescent young lady has a sparkly bolero jacket.

Just one backing dancer this time, he towers over Sonia and provides someone for her to look at while she's singing - much more effective than the double-suitor performance two weeks back.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VMSnQFWMrPM

#TOTP #Sonia

[ES] 7 versiones de "Sonia"... 4 en español.. la primera la mejor.. la última la original...
[EN] 7 version of "Sunny"... 4 in Spanish.. the first the best one.. the last the original...
[EO] 7 versioj de la sama kanto...

#Sonia #Sunny

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5VxY-Mw1TH8&list=PLZB07l599Pq9Qzj5IKGsuU1rrdcEZQoSB

Sonia and "You'll never stop me from loving you". Lots of warm lights tonight, oranges and reds dominate, there's a gorgeous pink-and-turquoise effect on the curve of the stage above Sonia. She's alone on the stage, no dry ice, none of the backing dancers from the summer.

Close camera angles mean that she fills the frame, a bundle of nervous energy. The Bonnie Langford of the 1990s.

#TOTP #Sonia

Maurice Leblanc - Arsene Lupin Part 21 of 99

“Look at the time,” said Sonia; “the telephone doesn’t work as late as this. It’s Sunday.”
The millionaire stopped dead.
“It’s true. It’s appalling,” he groaned.
“But that doesn’t matter. You can always telegraph,” said Germaine.
“But you can’t. It’s impossible,” said Sonia. “You can’t get a message through. It’s Sunday; and the telegraph offices shut at twelve o’clock.”
“Oh, what a Government!” groaned the millionaire. And he sank down gently on a chair beside the telephone, and mopped the beads of anguish from his brow. They looked at him, and they looked at one another, cudgelling their brains for yet another way of communicating with the Paris police.
“Hang it all!” said the Duke. “There must be some way out of the difficulty.”
“What way?” said the millionaire.
The Duke did not answer. He put his hands in his pockets and walked impatiently up and down the hall. Germaine sat down on a chair. Sonia put her hands on the back of a couch, and leaned forward, watching him. Firmin stood by the door, whither he had retired to be out of the reach of his excited master, with a look of perplexity on his stolid face. They all watched the Duke with the air of people waiting for an oracle to deliver its message. The millionaire kept mopping the beads of anguish from his brow. The more he thought of his impending loss, the more freely he perspired. Germaine’s maid, Irma, came to the door leading into the outer hall, which Firmin, according to his usual custom, had left open, and peered in wonder at the silent group.
“I have it!” cried the Duke at last. “There is a way out.”
“What is it?” said the millionaire, rising and coming to the middle of the hall.
“What time is it?” said the Duke, pulling out his watch.
The millionaire pulled out his watch. Germaine pulled out hers. Firmin, after a struggle, produced from some pocket difficult of access an object not unlike a silver turnip. There was a brisk dispute between Germaine and the millionaire about which of their watches was right. Firmin, whose watch apparently did not agree with the watch of either of them, made his deep voice heard above theirs. The Duke came to the conclusion that it must be a few minutes past seven.
“It’s seven or a few minutes past,” he said sharply. “Well, I’m going to take a car and hurry off to Paris. I ought to get there, bar accidents, between two and three in the morning, just in time to inform the police and catch the burglars in the very midst of their burglary. I’ll just get a few things together.”
So saying, he rushed out of the hall.
“Excellent! excellent!” said the millionaire. “Your young man is a man of resource, Germaine. It seems almost a pity that he’s a duke. He’d do wonders in the building trade. But I’m going to Paris too, and you’re coming with me. I couldn’t wait idly here, to save my life. And I can’t leave you here, either. This scoundrel may be going to make a simultaneous attempt on the château—not that there’s much here that I really value. There’s that statuette that moved, and the pane cut out of the window. I can’t leave you two girls with burglars in the house. After all, there’s the sixty horse-power and the thirty horse-power car—there’ll be lots of room for all of us.”
“Oh, but it’s nonsense, papa; we shall get there before the servants,” said Germaine pettishly. “Think of arriving at an empty house in the dead of night.”
“Nonsense!” said the millionaire. “Hurry off and get ready. Your bag ought to be packed. Where are my keys? Sonia, where are my keys—the keys of the Paris house?”
“They’re in the bureau,” said Sonia.
“Well, see that I don’t go without them. Now hurry up. Firmin, go and tell Jean that we shall want both cars. I will drive one, the Duke the other. Jean must stay with you and help guard the château.”
So saying he bustled out of the hall, driving the two girls before him.

#Sonia #Germaine #Paris #Firmin #Irma #Jean #ArseneLupin #MauriceLeBlanc #mystery #booktoot

Maurice Leblanc - Arsene Lupin Part 21 of 99

“Look at the time,” said Sonia; “the telephone doesn’t work as late as this. It’s Sunday.”
The millionaire stopped dead.
“It’s true. It’s appalling,” he groaned.
“But that doesn’t matter. You can always telegraph,” said Germaine.
“But you can’t. It’s impossible,” said Sonia. “You can’t get a message through. It’s Sunday; and the telegraph offices shut at twelve o’clock.”
“Oh, what a Government!” groaned the millionaire. And he sank down gently on a chair beside the telephone, and mopped the beads of anguish from his brow. They looked at him, and they looked at one another, cudgelling their brains for yet another way of communicating with the Paris police.
“Hang it all!” said the Duke. “There must be some way out of the difficulty.”
“What way?” said the millionaire.
The Duke did not answer. He put his hands in his pockets and walked impatiently up and down the hall. Germaine sat down on a chair. Sonia put her hands on the back of a couch, and leaned forward, watching him. Firmin stood by the door, whither he had retired to be out of the reach of his excited master, with a look of perplexity on his stolid face. They all watched the Duke with the air of people waiting for an oracle to deliver its message. The millionaire kept mopping the beads of anguish from his brow. The more he thought of his impending loss, the more freely he perspired. Germaine’s maid, Irma, came to the door leading into the outer hall, which Firmin, according to his usual custom, had left open, and peered in wonder at the silent group.
“I have it!” cried the Duke at last. “There is a way out.”
“What is it?” said the millionaire, rising and coming to the middle of the hall.
“What time is it?” said the Duke, pulling out his watch.
The millionaire pulled out his watch. Germaine pulled out hers. Firmin, after a struggle, produced from some pocket difficult of access an object not unlike a silver turnip. There was a brisk dispute between Germaine and the millionaire about which of their watches was right. Firmin, whose watch apparently did not agree with the watch of either of them, made his deep voice heard above theirs. The Duke came to the conclusion that it must be a few minutes past seven.
“It’s seven or a few minutes past,” he said sharply. “Well, I’m going to take a car and hurry off to Paris. I ought to get there, bar accidents, between two and three in the morning, just in time to inform the police and catch the burglars in the very midst of their burglary. I’ll just get a few things together.”
So saying, he rushed out of the hall.
“Excellent! excellent!” said the millionaire. “Your young man is a man of resource, Germaine. It seems almost a pity that he’s a duke. He’d do wonders in the building trade. But I’m going to Paris too, and you’re coming with me. I couldn’t wait idly here, to save my life. And I can’t leave you here, either. This scoundrel may be going to make a simultaneous attempt on the château—not that there’s much here that I really value. There’s that statuette that moved, and the pane cut out of the window. I can’t leave you two girls with burglars in the house. After all, there’s the sixty horse-power and the thirty horse-power car—there’ll be lots of room for all of us.”
“Oh, but it’s nonsense, papa; we shall get there before the servants,” said Germaine pettishly. “Think of arriving at an empty house in the dead of night.”
“Nonsense!” said the millionaire. “Hurry off and get ready. Your bag ought to be packed. Where are my keys? Sonia, where are my keys—the keys of the Paris house?”
“They’re in the bureau,” said Sonia.
“Well, see that I don’t go without them. Now hurry up. Firmin, go and tell Jean that we shall want both cars. I will drive one, the Duke the other. Jean must stay with you and help guard the château.”
So saying he bustled out of the hall, driving the two girls before him.

#Sonia #Germaine #Paris #Firmin #Irma #Jean #ArseneLupin #MauriceLeBlanc #mystery #booktoot

Maurice Leblanc - Arsene Lupin Part 21 of 99

“Look at the time,” said Sonia; “the telephone doesn’t work as late as this. It’s Sunday.”
The millionaire stopped dead.
“It’s true. It’s appalling,” he groaned.
“But that doesn’t matter. You can always telegraph,” said Germaine.
“But you can’t. It’s impossible,” said Sonia. “You can’t get a message through. It’s Sunday; and the telegraph offices shut at twelve o’clock.”
“Oh, what a Government!” groaned the millionaire. And he sank down gently on a chair beside the telephone, and mopped the beads of anguish from his brow. They looked at him, and they looked at one another, cudgelling their brains for yet another way of communicating with the Paris police.
“Hang it all!” said the Duke. “There must be some way out of the difficulty.”
“What way?” said the millionaire.
The Duke did not answer. He put his hands in his pockets and walked impatiently up and down the hall. Germaine sat down on a chair. Sonia put her hands on the back of a couch, and leaned forward, watching him. Firmin stood by the door, whither he had retired to be out of the reach of his excited master, with a look of perplexity on his stolid face. They all watched the Duke with the air of people waiting for an oracle to deliver its message. The millionaire kept mopping the beads of anguish from his brow. The more he thought of his impending loss, the more freely he perspired. Germaine’s maid, Irma, came to the door leading into the outer hall, which Firmin, according to his usual custom, had left open, and peered in wonder at the silent group.
“I have it!” cried the Duke at last. “There is a way out.”
“What is it?” said the millionaire, rising and coming to the middle of the hall.
“What time is it?” said the Duke, pulling out his watch.
The millionaire pulled out his watch. Germaine pulled out hers. Firmin, after a struggle, produced from some pocket difficult of access an object not unlike a silver turnip. There was a brisk dispute between Germaine and the millionaire about which of their watches was right. Firmin, whose watch apparently did not agree with the watch of either of them, made his deep voice heard above theirs. The Duke came to the conclusion that it must be a few minutes past seven.
“It’s seven or a few minutes past,” he said sharply. “Well, I’m going to take a car and hurry off to Paris. I ought to get there, bar accidents, between two and three in the morning, just in time to inform the police and catch the burglars in the very midst of their burglary. I’ll just get a few things together.”
So saying, he rushed out of the hall.
“Excellent! excellent!” said the millionaire. “Your young man is a man of resource, Germaine. It seems almost a pity that he’s a duke. He’d do wonders in the building trade. But I’m going to Paris too, and you’re coming with me. I couldn’t wait idly here, to save my life. And I can’t leave you here, either. This scoundrel may be going to make a simultaneous attempt on the château—not that there’s much here that I really value. There’s that statuette that moved, and the pane cut out of the window. I can’t leave you two girls with burglars in the house. After all, there’s the sixty horse-power and the thirty horse-power car—there’ll be lots of room for all of us.”
“Oh, but it’s nonsense, papa; we shall get there before the servants,” said Germaine pettishly. “Think of arriving at an empty house in the dead of night.”
“Nonsense!” said the millionaire. “Hurry off and get ready. Your bag ought to be packed. Where are my keys? Sonia, where are my keys—the keys of the Paris house?”
“They’re in the bureau,” said Sonia.
“Well, see that I don’t go without them. Now hurry up. Firmin, go and tell Jean that we shall want both cars. I will drive one, the Duke the other. Jean must stay with you and help guard the château.”
So saying he bustled out of the hall, driving the two girls before him.

#Sonia #Germaine #Paris #Firmin #Irma #Jean #ArseneLupin #MauriceLeBlanc #mystery #booktoot

Maurice Leblanc - Arsene Lupin Part 20 of 99

“It is the same handwriting. Am I likely to make a mistake about it?” spluttered the millionaire. And he tore open the envelope with an air of frenzy.
He ran his eyes over it, and they grew larger and larger—they grew almost of an average size.
“Listen,” he said “listen:”
“DEAR SIR,”
“My collection of pictures, which I had the pleasure of starting three years ago with some of your own, only contains, as far as Old Masters go, one Velasquez, one Rembrandt, and three paltry Rubens. You have a great many more. Since it is a shame such masterpieces should be in your hands, I propose to appropriate them; and I shall set about a respectful acquisition of them in your Paris house to-morrow morning.”
“Yours very sincerely,” “ARSÈNE LUPIN.”
“He’s humbugging,” said the Duke.
“Wait! wait!” gasped the millionaire. “There’s a postscript. Listen:”
“P.S.—You must understand that since you have been keeping the coronet of the Princesse de Lamballe during these three years, I shall avail myself of the same occasion to compel you to restore that piece of jewellery to me.—A. L.”
“The thief! The scoundrel! I’m choking!” gasped the millionaire, clutching at his collar.
To judge from the blackness of his face, and the way he staggered and dropped on to a couch, which was fortunately stronger than the chair, he was speaking the truth.
“Firmin! Firmin!” shouted the Duke. “A glass of water! Quick! Your master’s ill.”
He rushed to the side of the millionaire, who gasped: “Telephone! Telephone to the Prefecture of Police! Be quick!”
The Duke loosened his collar with deft fingers; tore a Van Loo fan from its case hanging on the wall, and fanned him furiously. Firmin came clumping into the room with a glass of water in his hand.
The drawing-room door opened, and Germaine and Sonia, alarmed by the Duke’s shout, hurried in.
“Quick! Your smelling-salts!” said the Duke.
Sonia ran across the hall, opened one of the drawers in the Oriental cabinet, and ran to the millionaire with a large bottle of smelling-salts in her hand. The Duke took it from her, and applied it to the millionaire’s nose. The millionaire sneezed thrice with terrific violence. The Duke snatched the glass from Firmin and dashed the water into his host’s purple face. The millionaire gasped and spluttered.
Germaine stood staring helplessly at her gasping sire.
“Whatever’s the matter?” she said.
“It’s this letter,” said the Duke. “A letter from Lupin.”
“I told you so—I said that Lupin was in the neighbourhood,” cried Germaine triumphantly.
“Firmin—where’s Firmin?” said the millionaire, dragging himself upright. He seemed to have recovered a great deal of his voice. “Oh, there you are!”
He jumped up, caught the gamekeeper by the shoulder, and shook him furiously.
“This letter. Where did it come from? Who brought it?” he roared.
“It was in the letter-box—the letter-box of the lodge at the bottom of the park. My wife found it there,” said Firmin, and he twisted out of the millionaire’s grasp.
“Just as it was three years ago,” roared the millionaire, with an air of desperation. “It’s exactly the same coup. Oh, what a catastrophe! What a catastrophe!”
He made as if to tear out his hair; then, remembering its scantiness, refrained.
“Now, come, it’s no use losing your head,” said the Duke, with quiet firmness. “If this letter isn’t a hoax—”
“Hoax?” bellowed the millionaire. “Was it a hoax three years ago?”
“Very good,” said the Duke. “But if this robbery with which you’re threatened is genuine, it’s just childish.”
“How?” said the millionaire.
“Look at the date of the letter—Sunday, September the third. This letter was written to-day.”
“Yes. Well, what of it?” said the millionaire.
“Look at the letter: ‘I shall set about a respectful acquisition of them in your Paris house to-morrow morning’—to-morrow morning.”
“Yes, yes; ‘to-morrow morning’—what of it?” said the millionaire.
“One of two things,” said the Duke. “Either it’s a hoax, and we needn’t bother about it; or the threat is genuine, and we have the time to stop the robbery.”
“Of course we have. Whatever was I thinking of?” said the millionaire. And his anguish cleared from his face.
“For once in a way our dear Lupin’s fondness for warning people will have given him a painful jar,” said the Duke.
“Come on! let me get at the telephone,” cried the millionaire.
“But the telephone’s no good,” said Sonia quickly.
“No good! Why?” roared the millionaire, dashing heavily across the room to it.

#Velasquez #Rembrandt #Paris #ARSÈNELUPIN #PrincessedeLamballe #Firmin #Telephone! #PrefectureofPolice #Germaine #Sonia #Oriental #Lupin #ArseneLupin #MauriceLeBlanc #mystery #booktoot

Maurice Leblanc - Arsene Lupin Part 20 of 99

“It is the same handwriting. Am I likely to make a mistake about it?” spluttered the millionaire. And he tore open the envelope with an air of frenzy.
He ran his eyes over it, and they grew larger and larger—they grew almost of an average size.
“Listen,” he said “listen:”
“DEAR SIR,”
“My collection of pictures, which I had the pleasure of starting three years ago with some of your own, only contains, as far as Old Masters go, one Velasquez, one Rembrandt, and three paltry Rubens. You have a great many more. Since it is a shame such masterpieces should be in your hands, I propose to appropriate them; and I shall set about a respectful acquisition of them in your Paris house to-morrow morning.”
“Yours very sincerely,” “ARSÈNE LUPIN.”
“He’s humbugging,” said the Duke.
“Wait! wait!” gasped the millionaire. “There’s a postscript. Listen:”
“P.S.—You must understand that since you have been keeping the coronet of the Princesse de Lamballe during these three years, I shall avail myself of the same occasion to compel you to restore that piece of jewellery to me.—A. L.”
“The thief! The scoundrel! I’m choking!” gasped the millionaire, clutching at his collar.
To judge from the blackness of his face, and the way he staggered and dropped on to a couch, which was fortunately stronger than the chair, he was speaking the truth.
“Firmin! Firmin!” shouted the Duke. “A glass of water! Quick! Your master’s ill.”
He rushed to the side of the millionaire, who gasped: “Telephone! Telephone to the Prefecture of Police! Be quick!”
The Duke loosened his collar with deft fingers; tore a Van Loo fan from its case hanging on the wall, and fanned him furiously. Firmin came clumping into the room with a glass of water in his hand.
The drawing-room door opened, and Germaine and Sonia, alarmed by the Duke’s shout, hurried in.
“Quick! Your smelling-salts!” said the Duke.
Sonia ran across the hall, opened one of the drawers in the Oriental cabinet, and ran to the millionaire with a large bottle of smelling-salts in her hand. The Duke took it from her, and applied it to the millionaire’s nose. The millionaire sneezed thrice with terrific violence. The Duke snatched the glass from Firmin and dashed the water into his host’s purple face. The millionaire gasped and spluttered.
Germaine stood staring helplessly at her gasping sire.
“Whatever’s the matter?” she said.
“It’s this letter,” said the Duke. “A letter from Lupin.”
“I told you so—I said that Lupin was in the neighbourhood,” cried Germaine triumphantly.
“Firmin—where’s Firmin?” said the millionaire, dragging himself upright. He seemed to have recovered a great deal of his voice. “Oh, there you are!”
He jumped up, caught the gamekeeper by the shoulder, and shook him furiously.
“This letter. Where did it come from? Who brought it?” he roared.
“It was in the letter-box—the letter-box of the lodge at the bottom of the park. My wife found it there,” said Firmin, and he twisted out of the millionaire’s grasp.
“Just as it was three years ago,” roared the millionaire, with an air of desperation. “It’s exactly the same coup. Oh, what a catastrophe! What a catastrophe!”
He made as if to tear out his hair; then, remembering its scantiness, refrained.
“Now, come, it’s no use losing your head,” said the Duke, with quiet firmness. “If this letter isn’t a hoax—”
“Hoax?” bellowed the millionaire. “Was it a hoax three years ago?”
“Very good,” said the Duke. “But if this robbery with which you’re threatened is genuine, it’s just childish.”
“How?” said the millionaire.
“Look at the date of the letter—Sunday, September the third. This letter was written to-day.”
“Yes. Well, what of it?” said the millionaire.
“Look at the letter: ‘I shall set about a respectful acquisition of them in your Paris house to-morrow morning’—to-morrow morning.”
“Yes, yes; ‘to-morrow morning’—what of it?” said the millionaire.
“One of two things,” said the Duke. “Either it’s a hoax, and we needn’t bother about it; or the threat is genuine, and we have the time to stop the robbery.”
“Of course we have. Whatever was I thinking of?” said the millionaire. And his anguish cleared from his face.
“For once in a way our dear Lupin’s fondness for warning people will have given him a painful jar,” said the Duke.
“Come on! let me get at the telephone,” cried the millionaire.
“But the telephone’s no good,” said Sonia quickly.
“No good! Why?” roared the millionaire, dashing heavily across the room to it.

#Velasquez #Rembrandt #Paris #ARSÈNELUPIN #PrincessedeLamballe #Firmin #Telephone! #PrefectureofPolice #Germaine #Sonia #Oriental #Lupin #ArseneLupin #MauriceLeBlanc #mystery #booktoot

Maurice Leblanc - Arsene Lupin Part 20 of 99

“It is the same handwriting. Am I likely to make a mistake about it?” spluttered the millionaire. And he tore open the envelope with an air of frenzy.
He ran his eyes over it, and they grew larger and larger—they grew almost of an average size.
“Listen,” he said “listen:”
“DEAR SIR,”
“My collection of pictures, which I had the pleasure of starting three years ago with some of your own, only contains, as far as Old Masters go, one Velasquez, one Rembrandt, and three paltry Rubens. You have a great many more. Since it is a shame such masterpieces should be in your hands, I propose to appropriate them; and I shall set about a respectful acquisition of them in your Paris house to-morrow morning.”
“Yours very sincerely,” “ARSÈNE LUPIN.”
“He’s humbugging,” said the Duke.
“Wait! wait!” gasped the millionaire. “There’s a postscript. Listen:”
“P.S.—You must understand that since you have been keeping the coronet of the Princesse de Lamballe during these three years, I shall avail myself of the same occasion to compel you to restore that piece of jewellery to me.—A. L.”
“The thief! The scoundrel! I’m choking!” gasped the millionaire, clutching at his collar.
To judge from the blackness of his face, and the way he staggered and dropped on to a couch, which was fortunately stronger than the chair, he was speaking the truth.
“Firmin! Firmin!” shouted the Duke. “A glass of water! Quick! Your master’s ill.”
He rushed to the side of the millionaire, who gasped: “Telephone! Telephone to the Prefecture of Police! Be quick!”
The Duke loosened his collar with deft fingers; tore a Van Loo fan from its case hanging on the wall, and fanned him furiously. Firmin came clumping into the room with a glass of water in his hand.
The drawing-room door opened, and Germaine and Sonia, alarmed by the Duke’s shout, hurried in.
“Quick! Your smelling-salts!” said the Duke.
Sonia ran across the hall, opened one of the drawers in the Oriental cabinet, and ran to the millionaire with a large bottle of smelling-salts in her hand. The Duke took it from her, and applied it to the millionaire’s nose. The millionaire sneezed thrice with terrific violence. The Duke snatched the glass from Firmin and dashed the water into his host’s purple face. The millionaire gasped and spluttered.
Germaine stood staring helplessly at her gasping sire.
“Whatever’s the matter?” she said.
“It’s this letter,” said the Duke. “A letter from Lupin.”
“I told you so—I said that Lupin was in the neighbourhood,” cried Germaine triumphantly.
“Firmin—where’s Firmin?” said the millionaire, dragging himself upright. He seemed to have recovered a great deal of his voice. “Oh, there you are!”
He jumped up, caught the gamekeeper by the shoulder, and shook him furiously.
“This letter. Where did it come from? Who brought it?” he roared.
“It was in the letter-box—the letter-box of the lodge at the bottom of the park. My wife found it there,” said Firmin, and he twisted out of the millionaire’s grasp.
“Just as it was three years ago,” roared the millionaire, with an air of desperation. “It’s exactly the same coup. Oh, what a catastrophe! What a catastrophe!”
He made as if to tear out his hair; then, remembering its scantiness, refrained.
“Now, come, it’s no use losing your head,” said the Duke, with quiet firmness. “If this letter isn’t a hoax—”
“Hoax?” bellowed the millionaire. “Was it a hoax three years ago?”
“Very good,” said the Duke. “But if this robbery with which you’re threatened is genuine, it’s just childish.”
“How?” said the millionaire.
“Look at the date of the letter—Sunday, September the third. This letter was written to-day.”
“Yes. Well, what of it?” said the millionaire.
“Look at the letter: ‘I shall set about a respectful acquisition of them in your Paris house to-morrow morning’—to-morrow morning.”
“Yes, yes; ‘to-morrow morning’—what of it?” said the millionaire.
“One of two things,” said the Duke. “Either it’s a hoax, and we needn’t bother about it; or the threat is genuine, and we have the time to stop the robbery.”
“Of course we have. Whatever was I thinking of?” said the millionaire. And his anguish cleared from his face.
“For once in a way our dear Lupin’s fondness for warning people will have given him a painful jar,” said the Duke.
“Come on! let me get at the telephone,” cried the millionaire.
“But the telephone’s no good,” said Sonia quickly.
“No good! Why?” roared the millionaire, dashing heavily across the room to it.

#Velasquez #Rembrandt #Paris #ARSÈNELUPIN #PrincessedeLamballe #Firmin #Telephone! #PrefectureofPolice #Germaine #Sonia #Oriental #Lupin #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 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 17 of 99

“It must be hard to be alone like that,” said the Duke.
“No,” said Sonia, with a faint smile, “I don’t mind having no relations. I grew used to that so young ... so very young. But what is hard—but you’ll laugh at me—”
“Heaven forbid!” said the Duke gravely.
“Well, what is hard is, never to get a letter ... an envelope that one opens ... from some one who thinks about one—”
She paused, and then added gravely: “But I tell myself that it’s nonsense. I have a certain amount of philosophy.”
She smiled at him—an adorable child’s smile.
The Duke smiled too. “A certain amount of philosophy,” he said softly. “You look like a philosopher!”
As they stood looking at one another with serious eyes, almost with eyes that probed one another’s souls, the drawing-room door flung open, and Germaine’s harsh voice broke on their ears.
“You’re getting quite impossible, Sonia!” she cried. “It’s absolutely useless telling you anything. I told you particularly to pack my leather writing-case in my bag with your own hand. I happen to open a drawer, and what do I see? My leather writing-case.”
“I’m sorry,” said Sonia. “I was going—”
“Oh, there’s no need to bother about it. I’ll see after it myself,” said Germaine. “But upon my word, you might be one of our guests, seeing how easily you take things. You’re negligence personified.”
“Come, Germaine ... a mere oversight,” said the Duke, in a coaxing tone.
“Now, excuse me, Jacques; but you’ve got an unfortunate habit of interfering in household matters. You did it only the other day. I can no longer say a word to a servant—”
“Germaine!” said the Duke, in sharp protest.
Germaine turned from him to Sonia, and pointed to a packet of envelopes and some letters, which Bernard Charolais had knocked off the table, and said, “Pick up those envelopes and letters, and bring everything to my room, and be quick about it!”
She flung out of the room, and slammed the door behind her.
Sonia seemed entirely unmoved by the outburst: no flush of mortification stained her cheeks, her lips did not quiver. She stooped to pick up the fallen papers.
“No, no; let me, I beg you,” said the Duke, in a tone of distress. And dropping on one knee, he began to gather together the fallen papers. He set them on the table, and then he said: “You mustn’t mind what Germaine says. She’s—she’s—she’s all right at heart. It’s her manner. She’s always been happy, and had everything she wanted. She’s been spoiled, don’t you know. Those kind of people never have any consideration for any one else. You mustn’t let her outburst hurt you.”
“Oh, but I don’t. I don’t really,” protested Sonia.
“I’m glad of that,” said the Duke. “It isn’t really worth noticing.”
He drew the envelopes and unused cards into a packet, and handed them to her.
“There!” he said, with a smile. “That won’t be too heavy for you.”
“Thank you,” said Sonia, taking it from him.
“Shall I carry them for you?” said the Duke.
“No, thank you, your Grace,” said Sonia.
With a quick, careless, almost irresponsible movement, he caught her hand, bent down, and kissed it. A great wave of rosy colour flowed over her face, flooding its whiteness to her hair and throat. She stood for a moment turned to stone; she put her hand to her heart. Then on hasty, faltering feet she went to the door, opened it, paused on the threshold, turned and looked back at him, and vanished.

#Sonia #Germaine #Jacques #BernardCharolais #Grace #ArseneLupin #MauriceLeBlanc #mystery #booktoot

Maurice Leblanc - Arsene Lupin Part 17 of 99

“It must be hard to be alone like that,” said the Duke.
“No,” said Sonia, with a faint smile, “I don’t mind having no relations. I grew used to that so young ... so very young. But what is hard—but you’ll laugh at me—”
“Heaven forbid!” said the Duke gravely.
“Well, what is hard is, never to get a letter ... an envelope that one opens ... from some one who thinks about one—”
She paused, and then added gravely: “But I tell myself that it’s nonsense. I have a certain amount of philosophy.”
She smiled at him—an adorable child’s smile.
The Duke smiled too. “A certain amount of philosophy,” he said softly. “You look like a philosopher!”
As they stood looking at one another with serious eyes, almost with eyes that probed one another’s souls, the drawing-room door flung open, and Germaine’s harsh voice broke on their ears.
“You’re getting quite impossible, Sonia!” she cried. “It’s absolutely useless telling you anything. I told you particularly to pack my leather writing-case in my bag with your own hand. I happen to open a drawer, and what do I see? My leather writing-case.”
“I’m sorry,” said Sonia. “I was going—”
“Oh, there’s no need to bother about it. I’ll see after it myself,” said Germaine. “But upon my word, you might be one of our guests, seeing how easily you take things. You’re negligence personified.”
“Come, Germaine ... a mere oversight,” said the Duke, in a coaxing tone.
“Now, excuse me, Jacques; but you’ve got an unfortunate habit of interfering in household matters. You did it only the other day. I can no longer say a word to a servant—”
“Germaine!” said the Duke, in sharp protest.
Germaine turned from him to Sonia, and pointed to a packet of envelopes and some letters, which Bernard Charolais had knocked off the table, and said, “Pick up those envelopes and letters, and bring everything to my room, and be quick about it!”
She flung out of the room, and slammed the door behind her.
Sonia seemed entirely unmoved by the outburst: no flush of mortification stained her cheeks, her lips did not quiver. She stooped to pick up the fallen papers.
“No, no; let me, I beg you,” said the Duke, in a tone of distress. And dropping on one knee, he began to gather together the fallen papers. He set them on the table, and then he said: “You mustn’t mind what Germaine says. She’s—she’s—she’s all right at heart. It’s her manner. She’s always been happy, and had everything she wanted. She’s been spoiled, don’t you know. Those kind of people never have any consideration for any one else. You mustn’t let her outburst hurt you.”
“Oh, but I don’t. I don’t really,” protested Sonia.
“I’m glad of that,” said the Duke. “It isn’t really worth noticing.”
He drew the envelopes and unused cards into a packet, and handed them to her.
“There!” he said, with a smile. “That won’t be too heavy for you.”
“Thank you,” said Sonia, taking it from him.
“Shall I carry them for you?” said the Duke.
“No, thank you, your Grace,” said Sonia.
With a quick, careless, almost irresponsible movement, he caught her hand, bent down, and kissed it. A great wave of rosy colour flowed over her face, flooding its whiteness to her hair and throat. She stood for a moment turned to stone; she put her hand to her heart. Then on hasty, faltering feet she went to the door, opened it, paused on the threshold, turned and looked back at him, and vanished.

#Sonia #Germaine #Jacques #BernardCharolais #Grace #ArseneLupin #MauriceLeBlanc #mystery #booktoot

Maurice Leblanc - Arsene Lupin Part 16 of 99

As she spoke she moved towards the door. M. Charolais and his sons rose and made way for her. The father and the two eldest sons made haste to follow her out of the room. But Bernard lingered behind, apparently to admire the bric-a-brac on the cabinets. With infinite quickness he grabbed two objects off the nearest, and followed his brothers. The Duke sprang across the hall in three strides, caught him by the arm on the very threshold, jerked him back into the hall, and shut the door.
“No you don’t, my young friend,” he said sharply.
“Don’t what?” said Bernard, trying to shake off his grip.
“You’ve taken a cigarette-case,” said the Duke.
“No, no, I haven’t—nothing of the kind!” stammered Bernard.
The Duke grasped the young man’s left wrist, plunged his hand into the motor-cap which he was carrying, drew out of it a silver cigarette-case, and held it before his eyes.
Bernard turned pale to the lips. His frightened eyes seemed about to leap from their sockets.
“It—it—was a m-m-m-mistake,” he stammered.
The Duke shifted his grip to his collar, and thrust his hand into the breast-pocket of his coat. Bernard, helpless in his grip, and utterly taken aback by his quickness, made no resistance.
The Duke drew out a morocco case, and said: “Is this a mistake too?”
“Heavens! The pendant!” cried Sonia, who was watching the scene with parted lips and amazed eyes.
Bernard dropped on his knees and clasped his hands.
“Forgive me!” he cried, in a choking voice. “Forgive me! Don’t tell any one! For God’s sake, don’t tell any one!”
And the tears came streaming from his eyes.
“You young rogue!” said the Duke quietly.
“I’ll never do it again—never! Oh, have pity on me! If my father knew! Oh, let me off!” cried Bernard.
The Duke hesitated, and looked down on him, frowning and pulling at his moustache. Then, more quickly than one would have expected from so careless a trifler, his mind was made up.
“All right,” he said slowly. “Just for this once ... be off with you.” And he jerked him to his feet and almost threw him into the outer hall.
“Thanks! ... oh, thanks!” said Bernard.
The Duke shut the door and looked at Sonia, breathing quickly.
“Well? Did you ever see anything like that? That young fellow will go a long way. The cheek of the thing! Right under our very eyes! And this pendant, too: it would have been a pity to lose it. Upon my word, I ought to have handed him over to the police.”
“No, no!” cried Sonia. “You did quite right to let him off—quite right.”
The Duke set the pendant on the ledge of the bureau, and came down the hall to Sonia.
“What’s the matter?” he said gently. “You’re quite pale.”
“It has upset me ... that unfortunate boy,” said Sonia; and her eyes were swimming with tears.
“Do you pity the young rogue?” said the Duke.
“Yes; it’s dreadful. His eyes were so terrified, and so boyish. And, to be caught like that ... stealing ... in the act. Oh, it’s hateful!”
“Come, come, how sensitive you are!” said the Duke, in a soothing, almost caressing tone. His eyes, resting on her charming, troubled face, were glowing with a warm admiration.
“Yes; it’s silly,” said Sonia; “but you noticed his eyes—the hunted look in them? You pitied him, didn’t you? For you are kind at bottom.”
“Why at bottom?” said the Duke.
“Oh, I said at bottom because you look sarcastic, and at first sight you’re so cold. But often that’s only the mask of those who have suffered the most.... They are the most indulgent,” said Sonia slowly, hesitating, picking her words.
“Yes, I suppose they are,” said the Duke thoughtfully.
“It’s because when one has suffered one understands.... Yes: one understands,” said Sonia.
There was a pause. The Duke’s eyes still rested on her face. The admiration in them was mingled with compassion.
“You’re very unhappy here, aren’t you?” he said gently.
“Me? Why?” said Sonia quickly.
“Your smile is so sad, and your eyes so timid,” said the Duke slowly. “You’re just like a little child one longs to protect. Are you quite alone in the world?”
His eyes and tones were full of pity; and a faint flush mantled Sonia’s cheeks.
“Yes, I’m alone,” she said.
“But have you no relations—no friends?” said the Duke.
“No,” said Sonia.
“I don’t mean here in France, but in your own country.... Surely you have some in Russia?”
“No, not a soul. You see, my father was a Revolutionist. He died in Siberia when I was a baby. And my mother, she died too—in Paris. She had fled from Russia. I was two years old when she died.”

#M_Charolais #Bernard #Sonia #Duke #France #Russia #Revolutionist #Siberia #Paris #ArseneLupin #MauriceLeBlanc #mystery #booktoot

Maurice Leblanc - Arsene Lupin Part 16 of 99

As she spoke she moved towards the door. M. Charolais and his sons rose and made way for her. The father and the two eldest sons made haste to follow her out of the room. But Bernard lingered behind, apparently to admire the bric-a-brac on the cabinets. With infinite quickness he grabbed two objects off the nearest, and followed his brothers. The Duke sprang across the hall in three strides, caught him by the arm on the very threshold, jerked him back into the hall, and shut the door.
“No you don’t, my young friend,” he said sharply.
“Don’t what?” said Bernard, trying to shake off his grip.
“You’ve taken a cigarette-case,” said the Duke.
“No, no, I haven’t—nothing of the kind!” stammered Bernard.
The Duke grasped the young man’s left wrist, plunged his hand into the motor-cap which he was carrying, drew out of it a silver cigarette-case, and held it before his eyes.
Bernard turned pale to the lips. His frightened eyes seemed about to leap from their sockets.
“It—it—was a m-m-m-mistake,” he stammered.
The Duke shifted his grip to his collar, and thrust his hand into the breast-pocket of his coat. Bernard, helpless in his grip, and utterly taken aback by his quickness, made no resistance.
The Duke drew out a morocco case, and said: “Is this a mistake too?”
“Heavens! The pendant!” cried Sonia, who was watching the scene with parted lips and amazed eyes.
Bernard dropped on his knees and clasped his hands.
“Forgive me!” he cried, in a choking voice. “Forgive me! Don’t tell any one! For God’s sake, don’t tell any one!”
And the tears came streaming from his eyes.
“You young rogue!” said the Duke quietly.
“I’ll never do it again—never! Oh, have pity on me! If my father knew! Oh, let me off!” cried Bernard.
The Duke hesitated, and looked down on him, frowning and pulling at his moustache. Then, more quickly than one would have expected from so careless a trifler, his mind was made up.
“All right,” he said slowly. “Just for this once ... be off with you.” And he jerked him to his feet and almost threw him into the outer hall.
“Thanks! ... oh, thanks!” said Bernard.
The Duke shut the door and looked at Sonia, breathing quickly.
“Well? Did you ever see anything like that? That young fellow will go a long way. The cheek of the thing! Right under our very eyes! And this pendant, too: it would have been a pity to lose it. Upon my word, I ought to have handed him over to the police.”
“No, no!” cried Sonia. “You did quite right to let him off—quite right.”
The Duke set the pendant on the ledge of the bureau, and came down the hall to Sonia.
“What’s the matter?” he said gently. “You’re quite pale.”
“It has upset me ... that unfortunate boy,” said Sonia; and her eyes were swimming with tears.
“Do you pity the young rogue?” said the Duke.
“Yes; it’s dreadful. His eyes were so terrified, and so boyish. And, to be caught like that ... stealing ... in the act. Oh, it’s hateful!”
“Come, come, how sensitive you are!” said the Duke, in a soothing, almost caressing tone. His eyes, resting on her charming, troubled face, were glowing with a warm admiration.
“Yes; it’s silly,” said Sonia; “but you noticed his eyes—the hunted look in them? You pitied him, didn’t you? For you are kind at bottom.”
“Why at bottom?” said the Duke.
“Oh, I said at bottom because you look sarcastic, and at first sight you’re so cold. But often that’s only the mask of those who have suffered the most.... They are the most indulgent,” said Sonia slowly, hesitating, picking her words.
“Yes, I suppose they are,” said the Duke thoughtfully.
“It’s because when one has suffered one understands.... Yes: one understands,” said Sonia.
There was a pause. The Duke’s eyes still rested on her face. The admiration in them was mingled with compassion.
“You’re very unhappy here, aren’t you?” he said gently.
“Me? Why?” said Sonia quickly.
“Your smile is so sad, and your eyes so timid,” said the Duke slowly. “You’re just like a little child one longs to protect. Are you quite alone in the world?”
His eyes and tones were full of pity; and a faint flush mantled Sonia’s cheeks.
“Yes, I’m alone,” she said.
“But have you no relations—no friends?” said the Duke.
“No,” said Sonia.
“I don’t mean here in France, but in your own country.... Surely you have some in Russia?”
“No, not a soul. You see, my father was a Revolutionist. He died in Siberia when I was a baby. And my mother, she died too—in Paris. She had fled from Russia. I was two years old when she died.”

#M_Charolais #Bernard #Sonia #Duke #France #Russia #Revolutionist #Siberia #Paris #ArseneLupin #MauriceLeBlanc #mystery #booktoot