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

"An Amiable Charlatan"


Almost as he spoke Stanley walked into the middle of the little group. I
have never in the whole course of my life seen two men so thoroughly and
entirely amazed. Mr. Harding dropped his cigar on the carpet, where he let
it remain. They stared at Stanley as though they were looking upon a
ghost. Both men seemed somehow to have lost their confident bearing--
seemed to have shrunken into smaller, less assertive, meaner beings.
"Sixty thousand pounds," Mr. Bundercombe went on--"one-third of which
belongs to Stanley here."
"Absurd!" Harding faltered.
"Nothing--nothing of the sort!" Densmore declared.
Mr. Bundercombe very carefully lit another cigar. Then he rang the bell.
Harding rose to his feet. He was not looking in the least like the sleek,
opulent gentleman who had entered the room a few minutes before.
"What's that for?" he demanded, pointing to the bell.
The door was already opened. Mr. Bundercombe indicated the young lady who
stood upon the threshold--the lady with whom he had been lunching that day
at Prince's.
"I only wished to have the pleasure," Mr. Bundercombe explained, "of
presenting you two gentlemen--Mr. Harding especially--to this young lady."
"Blanche!" Mr. Harding exclaimed.


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