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was feeling very pleased with myself. As we
approached Avenue de Villiers Mamsell Agata’s
Medusa face loomed out of the morning mist,
staring menacingly at me with her white eyes.
I looked at my watch, it was half-past seven, my
courage rose.
“She is just now rubbing the patina off the
refectory table in the dining-room,” thought I.
“Another bit of luck and I shall manage to slink
unnoticed into my bedroom and signal to Rosalie
to bring me my cup of tea.”
Rosalie came on tiptoe with my breakfast and
my ‘Figaro.’
“Rosalie, you are a brick! For Heaven’s sake
keep her out of the hall, I mean to slip out in
half-an-hour. Good Rosalie, just give me a
brush-up before you go, I need it badly.”
“But really Monsieur cannot go about visiting
his patients in this old hat, look! there is a round
hole in front and here is another behind, how
funny! It cannot be made by a moth, the whole
house is stinking with naphthaline ever since
Mamsell Agata came. Can it be a rat? Mamsell
Agata’s room is full of rats, Mamsell Agata likes
rats.”
“No, Rosalie, it is the death-watch beetle, it
has got teeth as hard as steel and can make just
such a hole in a man’s skull as well as in his hat,
if luck is not on his side.”
“Why does not Monsieur give the hat to
old Don Gaetano, the organ grinder, it is his
day for coming and playing under the balcony
to-day.”
“You are welcome to give him any hat you like
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