“Sacré nom d’un petit bonhomme!” He reached for his green felt hat and turned toward the door. “The trail becomes clear; even my good, skeptical friend Trowbridge can follow it, I think. Come, cher ami, let us see what we can see.”
Sacré nom d’un petitbonhomme!cher amiHe led me through the château park, between the rows of tall, trembling poplar trees, to a spot where black-boughed evergreens cast perpetual shade above a stonefenced area of a scant half acre. Rose bushes, long deteriorated from their cultivated state, ran riot over the ground, the whole enclosure had the gloomy aspect of a deserted cemetery. “Why,” I asked, “what place is this, de Grandin? It’s as different from the rest of the park as…”
“As death is from life, n’est-ce-pas?” he interjected. “Yes, so it is, truly. Observ
