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No, you don’t!” Ennison had moved stealthily a little nearer to him, and looked suddenly into the dark muzzle of the revolver. I struck him across the face, jumped out and went back by train to Paris. “Of course I’m manager for this expedition,” he said, after an interval of self-examination. Shall we sit outside and drink a petit verre of something to give us an appetite while dinner is being prepared?” “Certainly not,” she answered.

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