The two men hesitated upon the tee, gazing down the glade towards the distant-green. Their caddies were still pointing in excitement to a motionless object stretched upon the smooth turf close to the flag. Look there! Its a man! He is dead! The players paused to consider the situation. They were oddly contrasted combatantsone, Mr. Edgar Franks, elderly, large and florid, with a mass of flaxen hair only slightly streaked with grey, a transatlantic millionaire, and owner of the finest villa in the neighbourhood of Antibes the other tall and slim, a mere lad, whose name was Armand Toyes, and who motored down occasionally from his home somewhere in the hills behind Cagnes.

Osoby które kupowały "Madame and Her Twelve Virgins", wybierały także:

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