Then there was my wife's widowed sister, Mrs. Rosenthal. We can leave her
out. That's six. Then there was Alderman Sir Henry Dabbs and his wife. You
may know the name--large portmanteau manufacturers in Spitalfields and
certain to be Lord Mayor before long. His wife was wearing jewelry herself
last night worth, I should say, from twenty to twenty-five thousand
pounds; so my wife's little bit wouldn't do them much good, eh?"
"It certainly doesn't seem like it," I admitted. "So far, your list of
guests seems to have been entirely reputable."
"The only two left," Mr. Samuelson concluded, "are an American gentleman
and his daughter, a Mr. and Miss Parker whom we met on the train coming up
from Brighton--a very delightful gentleman and most popular he was with
all of us. The young lady, too, was perfectly charming. To hear him talk I
should have put him down myself as a man worth all the money he needed,
and more; and the young lady had got that trick of wearing her clothes and
talking as though she were born a princess. Real style, I should have
said--both of them. Still, the fact remains that they came in a motor car
with two men-servants; that it waited for them; and that this detective
from Scotland Yard--Mr.
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