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Under the Andes | Rex Stout | |
Allons! |
Page 2 of 8 |
I took the paper to Desiree in her room, and while she read the article stood gazing idly from a window. It was about eleven in the morning; Harry had gone for a walk, saying that he would return in half an hour to join us at breakfast. "Well?" said Desiree when she had finished. "But it is not well," I retorted, turning to face her. "I do not reproach you; you are being amused, and so, I confess, am I. But your name--that is, Le Mire--has been mentioned, and discovery is sure to follow. We must leave San Francisco at once." "But I find it entertaining." "Nevertheless, we must leave." "But if I choose to stay?" "No; for Harry would stay with you." "Well, then--I won't go." "Le Mire, you will go?" She sent me a flashing glance, and for a moment I half expected an explosion. Then, seeming to think better of it, she smiled: "But where? We can't go west without falling into the ocean, and I refuse to return. Where?" "Then we'll take the ocean." She looked up questioningly, and I continued: "What would you say to a yacht--a hundred and twenty foot steamer, with a daredevil captain and the coziest little cabins in the world?" "Bah!" Le Mire snapped her fingers to emphasize her incredulity. "It does not exist." |
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Under the Andes Rex Stout |
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