"If I see them again," she added, "I will warn you before you set
foot out of doors."
"Agreed!" And I broke off the conversation, knowing well that if I
allowed her to run on, she would end by being sure that Beelzebub
himself and one of his chief attendants were at my heels.
The two following days, there was certainly no one spying on me,
either at my exits or entrances. So I concluded my old servant had
made much of nothing, as usual. But on the morning of the
twenty-second of June, after rushing upstairs as rapidly as her age
would permit, the devoted old soul burst into my room and in a half
whisper gasped "Sir! Sir!"
"What is it?"
"They are there!"
"Who?" I queried, my mind on anything but the web she had been
spinning about me.
"The two spies!"
"Ah, those wonderful spies!"
"Themselves! In the street! Right in front of our windows! Watching
the house, waiting for you to go out."
I went to the window and raising just an edge of the shade, so as not
to give any warning, I saw two men on the pavement.
They were rather fine-looking men, broad-shouldered and vigorous,
aged somewhat under forty, dressed in the ordinary fashion of the
day, with slouched hats, heavy woolen suits, stout walking shoes and
sticks in hand. Undoubtedly, they were staring persistently at my
apparently unwatchful house.
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