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~::单机私服回收界面|Jimena Carranza::~

~::单机私服回收界面|Jimena Carranza::~

                                                      Bond grinned at him. This was more like it. He had found an ally, and an intelligent one at that. "Well," he said seriously, "I'm here on the Strangways case. But first of all I want to ask you a question that may sound odd. Exactly how did you come to be looking at that other case of mine? You say you found the file lying about. How was that? Had someone asked for it? I don't want to be indiscreet, so don't answer if you don't want to. I'm just inquisitive."Bond strolled out across the five hundred yards of shaven seaside turf that led to the first tee. Goldfinger was practising on the putting green. His caddie stood near by, rolling balk to him. Goldfinger putted in the new fashion - between his legs with a mallet putter. Bond felt encouraged. He didn't believe in the system. He knew it was no good practising himself. His old hickory Calamity Jane had its good days and its bad. There was nothing to do about it. He knew also that the St Marks practice green bore no resemblance, in speed or texture, to the greens on the course.

                                                      'So this is David?'"Come again." He snapped a ringer at the wine waiter. "Sam, ask my friends what they'd like to have with their coffee." And, with a final smile which embraced them both, he moved to another table.

                                                                                                        While she was concentrating, Bond stepped swiftly across the floor until he was almost behind her. There was a chair. He stood on it, praying it wouldn't squeak. Now he had the height to get the whole scene in focus. He put his eye to the viewfinder. Yes, there it was, all in line, the girl's head, the edge of the binoculars, the microphone and, twenty yards below, the two men at the table with Mr Du Font's hand of cards held in front of him. Bond could distinguish the reds and the blacks. He pressed the button.Bond snorted. `Thanks very much. But you'll be surprised to hear I'm coming with you. You're bound to get into trouble without me. Anyway I'm damned if I'm going to sit here trying to bluff policemen. The worst of learning one good phrase is that it sounds as if one knew the language. The policeman will come back with a barrage of Turkish and when I can't answer he'll smell a rat. Don't argue, Darko.'

                                                                                                        There came the sharp smell of the alcohol and the jab of the needle.

                                                                                                                                                          James Bond thought otherwise. He left his shelter, ran down the steps to the sand and began walking out after her at a fast pace. Behind him, across the promenade, the two men in raincoats also seemed to think otherwise. One of them briskly threw down some coins and they both got up and, walking strictly in step, crossed the promenade to the sand and, with a kind of urgent military precision, marched rapidly side by side in Bond's tracks."Good evening, sir. This way please." He spoke woodenly and with a trace of accent. Bond followed hint into the house and across a comfortable hall to a door on which the butler knocked. "In."

                                                                                                                                                          AND INDIA.