Hugo- a fantasia on Modern Themes


particular way because he wished to interpret them in a particular way


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hugo- a fantasia on modern themes


particular way because he wished to interpret them in a particular way.
He ascended in the direction of Department 42. Perhaps, after all, she had
escaped his vigilance, and was at her duties.
On the way thither he was accosted by a manager.
'Mr. Hugo.'
'Well, Banbury?'
'I telephoned to New Scotland Yard, but they refused any information.
However, I've got a pair from the nearest police-station. I shall order our
blacksmiths to make a dozen pairs to pattern. They will be in next month's
catalogue.'
'I congratulate you, Banbury.'
And he passed on. The early-rising customers were beginning to invade the
galleries, the cashiers in their confessional-boxes were settling themselves in
their seats, faultless shopwalkers were giving a final hitch to their lovely
collars, and the rank-and-file were preparing to receive cavalry. The vast
machine had started, slowly and deliberately, as an express engine starts. And
already the heat, as yesterday, was formidable. But she would not suffer to-
day; she was not in Department 42.
He went further and further, aimlessly penetrating to the very heart of the
jungle of departments. He had glimpses of departments that he had not seen
for weeks. At length he came to the verdant and delicious Flower Department
(hot-house branch), and by chance he caught a word which brought him to a
standstill.
'What's that?' he asked sharply, of a salesman in white.
'Order for orange-blossom, sir. A single sprig only. Rather a curious order, sir.'
'You can supply it?'
'Without doubt, sir.'
'Who is the customer?'


'Mr. Francis Tudor,' replied the salesman, looking at a paper. 'No. 7, the Flats.'
'Ah yes,' he said; and thought: 'My life is over.'
He gazed with unseeing eyes into the green and shady recesses of the
palmarium, where water trickled and tinkled.
What was the power, the influence, the lever, which Francis Tudor was using
to induce Camilla to marry him—him whom, on her own statement, she did
not love? And could Louis Ravengar be in earnest, after all, with his savage
threats?

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