Nevertheless, he descended
three steps from the court into which he had been directed, and
pushed open the swing door, behind which Emil Sachs announced his
desire to supply the world with dinners at eightpence and vin
ordinaire at fourpence the small bottle.
A stout black-eyed woman looked up at his entrance from behind the
counter. The place was empty.
"What does monsieur require she asked, peering forward through the
gloom with some suspicion. For the eightpenny dinners were the
scorn of the neighbourhood, and strangers were rare in the wine
shop of Emil Sachs."
Mr. Sabin smiled.
"One of your excellent omelettes, my good Annette," he answered,
"if your hand has not lost its cunning!"
She gave a little cry.
"It is monsieur!" she exclaimed. "After all these years it is
monsieur! Ah, you will pardon that I did not recognise you. This
place is a cellar. Monsieur has not changed. In the daylight one
would know him anywhere."
The woman talked fast, but even in that dim light Mr. Sabin knew
quite well that she was shaking with fear. He could see the corners
of her mouth twitch. Her black eyes rolled incessantly, but refused
to meet his. Mr. Sabin frowned.
"You are not glad to see me, Annette!"
She leaned over the counter.
"For monsieur's own sake," she whispered, "go!"
Mr.
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