{"product_id":"2940013761520","title":"The House in Lordship Lane","description":"MR. RICARDO sat on an iron chair at an iron table outside a bar and drank\u003cbr\u003ewith his coffee a sweet and heady liqueur. Yet he was exhilarated \"Nobody\u003cbr\u003ewould believe it,\" he said with a little giggle. But it was Brittany and\u003cbr\u003esummer time. \"Browsing with Browning in Brittany,\" he alliterated\u003cbr\u003ewittily, \"and so far I have been fortunate enough not to meet James Lee's\u003cbr\u003ewife.\" Mr. Ricardo was quite alone. He had sent his luggage home from Aix\u003cbr\u003eand with his suit-case, his fine big Rolls-Royce and his chauffeur was\u003cbr\u003emaking a roundabout tour through Brittany to Cherbourg; whence by a\u003cbr\u003etransatlantic liner what was to him a preferable entry to England could\u003cbr\u003ebe achieved. But the car had lurched and something had broken. For three\u003cbr\u003edays he must stay in this little town with the uncommon name. But his\u003cbr\u003eliner wasn't due at Cherbourg for four days--and it was Brittany and\u003cbr\u003esummer time.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMoreover, this drowsy little square of Lezardrieux, with the raised\u003cbr\u003eterrace at which he sat, the three sides of shops and houses and the\u003cbr\u003eempty fourth, where a steep cliff of sand and bushes dropped to the pool\u003cbr\u003eof the Lezardrieux river, made a sharp appeal to him. It was operatic.\u003cbr\u003eBelow the brow of the hill, he could almost hear the conductor tap with\u003cbr\u003ehis baton for attention. That boy in the bright red shirt strolling\u003cbr\u003eacross the square might at any moment burst into song. But it would only\u003cbr\u003ehave made an anti-climax if he had. For the stout, middle-aged woman who\u003cbr\u003ehad waddled out from the bar with a big letter in her hand was now at Mr.\u003cbr\u003eRicardo's elbow. \"You gave my estaminet as your address at Lezardrieux,\u003cbr\u003esir?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I telegraphed it,\" Mr. Ricardo agreed. \"I had not yet found a lodging in\u003cbr\u003ethe town.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Then this letter is for you, perhaps. There is another English\u003cbr\u003egentleman....\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Captain Mordaunt. Yes. He owns the small yacht in the pool. Perhaps if\u003cbr\u003eyou would let me see the letter, I could tell you for which of us it\u003cbr\u003ecomes.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor the woman, in her desire that so unusual an occurrence as a letter\u003cbr\u003eshould not miscarry, was clasping it tightly to her bosom. As she showed\u003cbr\u003ethe face of it, Mr. Ricardo recognised the hand which had written it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"It's for me,\" he cried with a little whoop of excitement. He snatched the\u003cbr\u003eenvelope from her reluctant hand and tore it open. He read:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'My dear friend,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI accuse the reception of your invitation...'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eand sat back, reflecting with toleration, \"Yes, he would accuse\u003cbr\u003esomething--it's his nature to--and I have no doubt that he has signed his\u003cbr\u003ename like a peer of England.\" He turned, to the back of the letter. There\u003cbr\u003eit was. \"Hanaud\"--just \"Hanaud\"--the name of terror.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Really, really,\" Mr. Ricardo said to himself and the smile of amusement\u003cbr\u003epassed from his lips.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAfter all, it was a year since he had invited Chief Inspector Hanaud of\u003cbr\u003ethe Paris Sureté to spend a holiday in Grosvenor Square. Hanaud could\u003cbr\u003ehave accused the reception of his letter a year ago. But he had not\u003cbr\u003eaccused it. He had kept it on the chance that he might want to accuse it\u003cbr\u003eat a later time. And the time had come.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"But I don't know,\" said Mr. Ricardo indignantly, as he turned to the\u003cbr\u003elady of the estaminet. \"It is Madame Rollard, is it not?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt certainly was Madame Rollard, as she assured him. But Mr. Ricardo was\u003cbr\u003enot thinking of Madame Rollard. He hit the offending letter with his\u003cbr\u003eknuckles.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"These are not manners.\"","brand":"WDS Publishing","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47145903882480,"sku":"2940013761520","price":2.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940013761520_p0.jpg?v=1763589928","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940013761520","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}