From the further end of the apartment came the low music of a violin. There's a man dying—Captain Darrell. Here was a hole as wide as a church-door. If he hasn't a job for you, he'll know someone who has. ’ Footsteps sounded just outside, and Captain Roding walked in. Instead of which, more than half an hour has elapsed. “It is true,” he said, “that I was dining last night at a restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes, and it is true that my companion was a young lady whose name is Pellissier. There are cigarettes and magazines in the corner there.
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