Explore "The Monster of Grammont" by George Goodchild on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
In a small farmhouse, situated some twenty-five miles from the château and lying well off the main road, two men sat and smoked in the dusk of evening. One of them was Heinrich, and the other man called Walther. Heinrich still wore a bandage round his leg where Fouchard's bullet had punctured it, and when he got up to light the hanging lamp he limped slightly. Walther was a striking personality. He was over six feet in height and extremely well proportioned. His hair was as fair as a Swede's, and was set off by wide-set, vivid blue eyes.
"It is a strange business," he mused. "At first I was incredulous, but of course I was compelled to change my mind. How did you manage to get into this place?"