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The Argosy - Vol. 51, No. 3, March, 1891 by Various
page 34 of 154 (22%)
Captain Ducie shudder involuntarily, as though he had seen some
loathsome reptile, the first time he looked steadily into their
half-veiled depths. One look into each other's eyes was sufficient for
both these men.

"Monsieur Cleon and I are born enemies, and he knows it as well as I
do," murmured Ducie to himself, after the first secret signal of
defiance had passed between the two. "Well, I never was afraid of any
man in my life, and I'm not going to begin by being afraid of a valet."
With that he shrugged his shoulders, and turned his back contemptuously
on the mulatto.

Cleon, in his suit of black and white tie, with his quiet, stealthy
movements and unobtrusive attentions, would have been pronounced good
style as a gentleman's gentleman in the grandest of Belgravian mansions.
Had he suddenly come into a fortune, and gone into society where his
antecedents were unknown, five-sixths of his male associates would have
pronounced him "a deuced gentlemanly fellow." The remaining one-sixth
might have held a somewhat different opinion.

"That coloured fellow seems to be a great favourite with you," remarked
Ducie, as Cleon left the room.

"And well he may be," answered Platzoff. "On two separate occasions I
owed my life to him. Once in South America, when a couple of brigands
had me at their mercy and were about to try the temper of their knives
on my throat. He potted them both one after the other. On the second
occasion he rescued me from a tiger in the jungle, who was desirous of
dining _à la Russe_. I have not made a favourite of Cleon without having
my reasons for so doing."
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