"'Mechanism on a table,' he repeated, with a prodigious yawn of relief.
'That is all, my own.'"
"Good!" said madame Noulens cheerily. She bustled in, fluttering pages of shorthand. "But, old angel, the tale of Paul and Rosamonde is thrown away—it is an extravagance, telling two stories for the price of one!"
"My treasure, thou knowest I invented it months ago and couldn't make it long enough for it to be of any use."
"True. Well, we will be liberal, then—we will include it." She noticed my amazement. "What ails our friend?"
Noulens gave a guffaw. "I fear our friend did not recognize that I was dictating to you. By-the-bye, it was fortunate someone rang us up just now—that started my plot for me! Who was it?"
"It was La Voix" she laughed, "inquiring if the story would be done in time!"
* * * * *
Yes, indeed, they are comrades!—you are certain to hear it. And as often as I hear it myself, I think of what he told me that evening—I remember how he took me in.
End of Project Gutenberg's A Chair on The Boulevard, by Leonard Merrick