Come: you may be prevented if you delay."
These words aroused Hyde's suspicions. Had Cyprienne warned the French
police to be on the look-out for him?
"But, Anatole, explain. Why do you lay such stress on this?" he asked.
"Do as I tell you--first, the papers. I will explain by-and-by."
There was no mistaking Anatole, and Hyde accordingly hastened
upstairs. Anatole indicated the door of an antechamber, which Hyde
entered alone. It was a large, bare room, with a long counter--inside
were a couple of desks, and at them sat several clerks--small people
wielding a very brief authority--who looked contemptuously at him over
their ledgers, and allowed him to stand there waiting without the
slightest acknowledgment of his existence for nearly a quarter of an
hour.
"I have come for a certificated extract from the registers of a civil
marriage contracted here on the 27th April, 184--" he said, at length,
in a loud, indignant voice.
The inquiry had the effect of an electrical shock. Two clerks at once
jumped from their stools; one went into an inner room, the other came
to the counter where Hyde stood.
"Your name?" he asked, abruptly. "Your papers, domicile, place of
birth, age. The names of the parties to the contract of marriage."
Hyde replied without hesitation, producing his passport, a new one
made out in the name of Hyde, describing his appearance, and setting
forth his condition as an officer in Her Britannic Majesty's Regiment
of Royal Picts.
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