He's here--I saw him at the Monte Rosa to-night.

God!" He dropped his hand from Durand's arm and struck the table fiercely with his clenched hand.
"John Armitage--John Armitage! I heard his name in Florence." His eyes were snapping with excitement, and amazement grew in his face.
"Who is John Armitage ?" demanded Durand sharply; but Chauvenet stared at him in stupefaction for a tense moment, then muttered to himself: "Is it possible?
Is it possible ?" and his voice was hoarse and his hand trembled as he picked up the cigarette case.
"My dear Jules, you act as though you had seen a ghost.

Who the devil is Armitage ?" Chauvenet glanced about the room cautiously, then bent forward and whispered very low, close to Durand's ear: "Suppose he were the son of the crazy Karl! Suppose he were Frederick Augustus!" "Bah! It is impossible! What is your man Armitage like ?" asked Durand irritably.
"He is the right age.

He is a big fellow and has quite an air.

He seems to be without occupation." "Clearly so," remarked Durand ironically.