Even when they came close, owing to the light in my eyes, I could not see them.
Sometimes, in a half circle, there would be six or eight of the electric torches blinding me, and from behind them voices barking at me with strange, guttural noises.

Much they said I could not understand, much I did not want to understand, but they made it quite clear it was no fit place for an Englishman.
When the door from the drawing-room opened and Rupert of Hentzau appeared, I was almost glad to see him.
Whenever he spoke to me he always began or ended his sentence with "Mr.Davis." He gave it an emphasis and meaning which was intended to show that he knew it was not my name.

I would not have thought it possible to put so much insolence into two innocent words.
It was as though he said: "Mr.Davis, alias Jimmy Valentine." He certainly would have made a great actor.
"Mr.Davis," he said, "you are free." He did not look as disappointed as I knew he would feel if I were free, so I waited for what was to follow.
"You are free," he said, "under certain conditions." The conditions seemed to cheer him.

He recited the conditions.

They were those I had outlined to Major Wurth.