Explore "The Traitors" by E. Phillips Oppenheim on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The storm had driven away the crowd of loiterers from in front of the Cafe Metropolitan. The King and Brand stood under one of the small lime trees which bordered the road, watching the place. The lower room, unshuttered, and lit with several flaring gas jets, was filled with a crowd of men drinking and singing songs. From the upper windows came no sign of life.
"That is where I believe that Domiloff is hiding," Brand declared. "Do you see what a rabble that is inside the _cafe_?"