author - "E. Phillips Oppenheim"
indeed. I noticed it when I ventured to address monsieur on the steps of the Opera House."I remained gloomily silent. It was one thing to avail myself of the society of a very popular little maitre d'hotel, holiday making in his own capital, and quite another to take him even a few steps into my confidence. So I said nothing, but my eyes, which travelled around the room, were weary. "After all," Louis continued, helping himself to a cigarette, "what is there in a place like
never eat more than anomelette and some fruit for luncheon, compelled to sit down every day toa mittagessen! I wonder I have any digestion left at all.""Do you mean that you were there under your own name?" he askedincredulously. She shook her head. "I secured some perfectly good testimonials before I left," she said."They referred to a Miss Brown, the daughter of Prebendary Brown. I wasMiss Brown." "Great Heavens!" Nigel muttered under his breath.
ad all the way is like a circus," the young soldier observed, "and there isn't a thing to be seen when you get there. The naval airmen were all over the place at daybreak, and Captain Griffiths wasn't far behind them. You didn't leave much for the sightseers, sir," he concluded, turning to his neighbour."As Commandant of the place," Captain Griffiths replied, "I naturally had to have the Common searched. With the exception of the observation car, however, I think
arent unconcern of any suggestion counter tohis own. He thought slowly and he spoke seldom, but when he had oncespoken the matter, so far as he was concerned, was done with. LadyAngela apparently was used to him, for she rose at once. She did notshake hands, but she nodded to me pleasantly. Colonel Ray handed herinto the wagonette, and I heard the quicker throbbing of the engine asit glided off into the darkness.It was several minutes before he returned. I began to wonder whether hehad changed
e with you. The railway last night for twenty miles back was held up for State purposes. We none of us know why, and it doesn't do to be too curious over here, but they have an idea that you are either a journalist or a spy.""Civis Britannicus sum!" the boy answered, with a laugh. "It doesn't quite mean what it used to, sir," the man answered quietly. CHAPTER II AT THE CAFÉ MONTMARTRE Exactly a week later, at five minutes after midnight, Guy Poynton, in evening dress,
as open at the top,and he had distinctly heard the jingling of a hansom bell.He threw open the bottom sash and leaned out. A hansom cab was waiting atthe entrance to the flats. Wrayson glanced once more instinctivelytowards the clock. Who on earth of his neighbours could be keeping a cabwaiting outside at that hour in the morning? With the exception of Barnesand himself, they were most of them early people. Once more he looked outof the window. The cabman was leaning forward in his seat with
and wife, I should think," he said thoughtfully, "yet one never can tell!"Involuntarily they all three glanced towards the man. He was well preserved and his little imperial and short grey moustache were trimmed with military precision, yet his hair was almost white, and his age could scarcely be less than sixty. In his way he was quite as interesting as the girl. His eyes, underneath his thick brows, were dark and clear, and his features were strong and delicately shaped. His
Description It’s 1913, and war is on the horizon. The disgraced English aristocrat, Everard Dominey, is stumbling through East Africa when he comes across his old classmate and lookalike—the German Baron von Ragastein. Shortly after their chance encounter, Dominey returns to England. But is it really him, or a German secret agent, looking to infiltrate English society? As Dominey attempts to resume his life, he must reacquaint himself with his insane and murderous wife, the passionate ex-lover
indeed. I noticed it when I ventured to address monsieur on the steps of the Opera House."I remained gloomily silent. It was one thing to avail myself of the society of a very popular little maitre d'hotel, holiday making in his own capital, and quite another to take him even a few steps into my confidence. So I said nothing, but my eyes, which travelled around the room, were weary. "After all," Louis continued, helping himself to a cigarette, "what is there in a place like
never eat more than anomelette and some fruit for luncheon, compelled to sit down every day toa mittagessen! I wonder I have any digestion left at all.""Do you mean that you were there under your own name?" he askedincredulously. She shook her head. "I secured some perfectly good testimonials before I left," she said."They referred to a Miss Brown, the daughter of Prebendary Brown. I wasMiss Brown." "Great Heavens!" Nigel muttered under his breath.
ad all the way is like a circus," the young soldier observed, "and there isn't a thing to be seen when you get there. The naval airmen were all over the place at daybreak, and Captain Griffiths wasn't far behind them. You didn't leave much for the sightseers, sir," he concluded, turning to his neighbour."As Commandant of the place," Captain Griffiths replied, "I naturally had to have the Common searched. With the exception of the observation car, however, I think
arent unconcern of any suggestion counter tohis own. He thought slowly and he spoke seldom, but when he had oncespoken the matter, so far as he was concerned, was done with. LadyAngela apparently was used to him, for she rose at once. She did notshake hands, but she nodded to me pleasantly. Colonel Ray handed herinto the wagonette, and I heard the quicker throbbing of the engine asit glided off into the darkness.It was several minutes before he returned. I began to wonder whether hehad changed
e with you. The railway last night for twenty miles back was held up for State purposes. We none of us know why, and it doesn't do to be too curious over here, but they have an idea that you are either a journalist or a spy.""Civis Britannicus sum!" the boy answered, with a laugh. "It doesn't quite mean what it used to, sir," the man answered quietly. CHAPTER II AT THE CAFÉ MONTMARTRE Exactly a week later, at five minutes after midnight, Guy Poynton, in evening dress,
as open at the top,and he had distinctly heard the jingling of a hansom bell.He threw open the bottom sash and leaned out. A hansom cab was waiting atthe entrance to the flats. Wrayson glanced once more instinctivelytowards the clock. Who on earth of his neighbours could be keeping a cabwaiting outside at that hour in the morning? With the exception of Barnesand himself, they were most of them early people. Once more he looked outof the window. The cabman was leaning forward in his seat with
and wife, I should think," he said thoughtfully, "yet one never can tell!"Involuntarily they all three glanced towards the man. He was well preserved and his little imperial and short grey moustache were trimmed with military precision, yet his hair was almost white, and his age could scarcely be less than sixty. In his way he was quite as interesting as the girl. His eyes, underneath his thick brows, were dark and clear, and his features were strong and delicately shaped. His
Description It’s 1913, and war is on the horizon. The disgraced English aristocrat, Everard Dominey, is stumbling through East Africa when he comes across his old classmate and lookalike—the German Baron von Ragastein. Shortly after their chance encounter, Dominey returns to England. But is it really him, or a German secret agent, looking to infiltrate English society? As Dominey attempts to resume his life, he must reacquaint himself with his insane and murderous wife, the passionate ex-lover