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Phantom Fingers
in pretty well defined channels, you know. In our business the motto is: “Toujours change, et toujours la même chose.”
“Always change, and always the same thing,” she translated.
“You speak French,” I said, unnecessarily.
She nodded. “I was educated at a convent in the south of France, near Beaulieu—that’s between Nice and Monte Carlo.”
“I know the place,” I said. “I stayed at St. Jean Cap-Ferrat for a season, and that’s right next door to it. When the sun sets over Villefranche Harbor and the Mediterranean, why . . .” I was silent as I remembered the beauty of Southern France.
She looked at me curiously. “You're a peculiar kind of a policeman—I don’t think I ever quite met your kind before.”
“Why?” I asked. “Because I can quote a French author?”
“Partly that,” she said. “And because you noticed a sunset over Villefranche Harbor, and because . . . oh, you seem so different, you know, from what one would expect from a detective.”
“Thanks,” I laughed.
“Oh, I didn’t mean it in just that way—” she interposed, afraid that she had belittled my profession.
“Oh, no offense,” I said. “You know, a policeman
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