Liane Delorme
sat up with a movement of sharp uneasiness.
"Of what, my friend, are you thinking?"
"I am marvelling at something everybody knows--that history does repeat
itself."
The woman made a sudden hissing sound, of breath drawn shortly between
closed teeth. "I hope not!" she sighed.
Lanyard opened his eyes wide at her. "You hope not, Liane?"
"I hope this time history will not altogether repeat itself. You see,
my friend, I think I know what is in your mind, memories of old
times...."
"True: I am thinking of those days when the Pack hunted the Lone Wolf
in Paris, ran him to earth at last, and made him much the same offer as
you have made to-night.... The Pack, you should know, messieurs, was
the name assumed by an association of Parisian criminals, ambitious
like you, who had grown envious of the Lone Wolf's success, and wished
to persuade him to run with them."
"And what happened?" Phinuit enquired.
"Why it so happened that they chose the time when I had made up my mind
to be good for the rest of my days. It was all most unfortunate."
"What answer did you give them, then?"
"As memory serves, I told them they could all go plumb to hell.
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