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Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips), 1866-1946

"The Devil's Paw"

"
"I am entirely at your service, Countess," he answered promptly.
"As a matter of fact, I have already promised to appear there
myself for an hour."
"You would like to play bridge now, perhaps?" she asked.
"The Princess was kind enough to invite me," he replied, "but I
ventured to excuse myself. I saw that the numbers were even
without me, and I hoped for a little more conversation with you."
They seated themselves in an exceedingly comfortable corner. A
footman brought them coffee, and a butler offered strange
liqueurs. Catherine leaned back with a little sigh of relief.
"Every one calls this room of my aunt's the hotel lounge," she
remarked. "Personally, I love it."
"To me, also, it is the ideal apartment," he confessed. "Here we
are alone, and I may ask you a question which was on my lips when
we had tea together at the Carlton, and which, but for our
environment, I should certainly have asked you at dinner time."
"You may ask me anything," she assured him, with a little smile.
"I am feeling happy and loquacious. Don't tempt me to talk, or I
shall give away all my life's secrets."
"I will only ask you for one just now," he promised. "Is it true
that you have to-day had some disagreement with--shall I say a
small congress of men who have their meetings down at Westminster,
and with whom you have been in close touch for some time?"
Her start was unmistakable.
"How on earth do you know anything about that?"
He shrugged his shoulders.


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