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

"An Amiable Charlatan"


"Silly thing!" he observed as he glanced up for a moment. "That little
diamond charm of mine has slipped off my fob. I saw it as we crossed the
foyer from the restaurant."
"Why, what has happened to us all!" my sister joined in. "Look at me--I've
lost my pendant! Paul, did you give us too much to drink, or what?"
I am not sure that this was not the most awful moment of my life! A cold
shiver of fear suddenly seized me. I looked from one to the other,
speechless. If appearances had gone for anything at that moment I must
indeed have looked guilty.
"Most extraordinary!" I mumbled.
"Oh! the things will turn up all right, without a doubt," Lady Enterdean
declared good-humoredly. "Could we have a couple of waiters in and search
properly, Paul? My knees are a little too old for this stooping."
"If you'll please all wait a few minutes," I begged earnestly, "I'll go
out and make inquiries. Sir Blaydon, take my place in that rubber of
bridge--there's a good fellow. I'll have the restaurant searched too.
Don't mind if I am away a few minutes."
I hurried out. As soon as the door of the private room was closed I made
for the entrance of the restaurant as fast as I could sprint. Without hat
or coat I jumped into a taxi, and in less than ten minutes I was mounting
the stairs of Number 17, Banton Street, with the hall porter blinking at
me from his office.


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