CHAPTER III
LÉONTINE DIGS IN THE SAND
It was this same Prince Kharkoff, you remember, who got me shipped off to Cayenne. But that was three years before, and when I had been fool enough to get caught in his bear-trap grip, that day at the races, I was wearing a Vandyk beard and moustache. But now I was smooth shaven, and, considering my surroundings and resemblance to John, there was no danger of his recognising me, especially as he and the Cuttynges had frequently met at dinner and receptions. Being with Léontine he did not bow.
Léontine had not seen us, and as she swung slowly in her chair to see who her neighbors were, I turned as if to speak to John. There were a good many people looking, and I was not sure that the girl would be able to hide her feelings. You see, my play in getting myself collared to save the rest of the crowd had hit her pretty hard, especially as she knew that I would have pulled the job off all right except for her wilfulness. As she saw it she had cost me my liberty for life, so that when I tackled the agent, and held him while the others got away in the car, she was horribly broken up. You see, we were already pretty well started on one of those swift, savage affairs that sometimes happen in the Under-World, where people don't know at what moment they may find iron bars be-
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