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THIS second blow left Jean d’Enneris at any rate outwardly unmoved. He raged not, though a flood of terrible cold anger surged through his whole being. He looked at his watch and found it was seven o’clock. “Time for dinner,” he said, “and I spy a little eating-house across the road. At eight o’clock we go into action. Food first.” “Why not act now?” Béchoux wanted to know. They sat down at a corner table, among the rougher class of shop assistant and a sprinkling of taxi-drivers. “Why not?” said d’Enneris. “Because I’m all wumbled. I’ve been trusting to luck, and trying to guard against all the possibilities. But I’ve been a bit too late on each count, and now I’m tired out with missing the bus. I must take stock of all that’s happened and try to work it out. Why did Fagerault make R