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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"Uncle Bernac A Memory of the Empire"

'You have carried his first line of
entrenchments most gallantly, Lieutenant Gerard. I hope you are not
hurt?'
'A few scratches, General, nothing more.'
'Get your pistols, then. Where is the miller?'
'Here I am,' said a squat, rough little fellow, appearing in the open
doorway. 'What do you mean, you brigands, by entering my mill in this
fashion? I am sitting reading my paper and smoking my pipe of
coltsfoot, as my custom is about this time of the evening, and suddenly,
without a word, a man comes flying through my window, covers me with
glass, and opens my door to his friends outside. I've had trouble
enough with my one lodger all day without three more of you turning up.'
'You have the conspirator Toussac in your house.'
'Toussac!' cried the miller. 'Nothing of the kind. His name is
Maurice, and he is a merchant in silks.'
'He is the man we want. We come in the Emperor's name.'
The miller's jaw dropped as he listened.
'I don't know who he is, but he offered a good price for a bed and I
asked no more questions. In these days one cannot expect a certificate
of character from every lodger.


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