Par Adalbert de Segonzac Jamais mon mécanicien ne m’avait paru tellement surexcité. Harry était un brave gars du Lancashire, pondéré, calme, lent à m’en faire grincer des dents. Mais ce matin, dans la pénombre d’une nuit touchant à sa fin et éclairée par mille étoiles, il semblait trouver que rien n’était trop bien pour moi. …
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