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

"The Yellow Crayon"

Only Lucille, who knew him best of all
those there, saw him wince for a moment before this reminder of his
great failure.
"I am not accustomed," Mr. Sabin said quietly, "to shirk my share
of the work in any undertaking with which I am connected. Only in
this case I claim to take the place of the Countess Lucille, my
wife. I request that the task, whatever it may be which you have
imposed upon her, may be transferred to me."
The Prince's smile was sweet, but those who knew him best wondered
what evil it might betoken for his ancient enemy.
"You offer yourself, then, as a full member?"
"Assuredly!"
"Subject," he drawled, "to all the usual pains and privileges?"
"Certainly!"
The Prince played with the cards upon the table. His smooth, fair
face was unruffled, almost undisturbed. Yet underneath he was
wondering fiercely, eagerly, how this might serve his ends.
"The circumstances," he said at last, "are peculiar. I think that
we should do well to consult together--you and I, Felix, and
Raoul here."
The two men named rose up silently. The Prince pointed to a
small round table at the farther end of the apartment, half
screened off by a curtained recess.
"Am I also," Mr. Sabin asked, "of your company?"
The Prince shook his head.
"I think not," he said. "In a few moments we will return.


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