“My wife!” he said hoarsely. “I want my wife. I can’t live without her. Give her back to me. Where is she?”
“You had better search the station,” said Aristide.
The heavy man unconsciously shook him in his powerful grasp, as a child might shake a doll.
“Give her to me! Give her to me, I say! She won’t regret it.”
mr. ducksmith seized him by the lapels of his coat
“You swear that?” asked Aristide, with lightning quickness.
“I swear it, by God! Where is she?”
Aristide disengaged himself, waved his hand airily towards Perigueux, and smiled blandly.
“In the salon of the hotel, waiting for you to prostrate yourself on your knees before her.”