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

"The Yellow Crayon"

"
He rose to his feet with slow but evil promptitude. His face just
then was very unlike the face of an angel. Lady Carey laughed
aloud.
"Poor man," she said mockingly. "It is always the same when you
and Souspennier meet."
He set his teeth.
"This time," he muttered, "I hold the trumps."
She pointed at the clock. It was nearly four. "She was there at
eleven," she remarked drily.

CHAPTER XXII
"His Highness, the Prince of Saxe Leinitzer!"
Duson stood away from the door with a low bow. The Prince--in
the buttonhole of whose frock-coat was a large bunch of Russian
violets, passed across the threshold. Mr. Sabin rose slowly
from his chair.
"I fear," the Prince said suavely, "that I am an early visitor.
I can only throw myself upon your indulgence and plead the urgency
of my mission."
His arrival appeared to have interrupted a late breakfast of the
Continental order. The small table at which Lucille and Mr. Sabin
were seated was covered with roses and several dishes of wonderful
fruit. A coffee equipage was before Lucille. Mr. Sabin, dressed
with his usual peculiar care and looking ten years younger, had
just lit a cigarette.
"We have been anticipating your visit, Prince," Mr. Sabin remarked,
with grim courtesy. "Can we offer you coffee or a liqueur?"
"I thank you, no," the Prince answered.


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