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

"The Yellow Crayon"

"
"Indeed, monsieur," Annette declared, "I know nothing. There is
nothing which I can tell monsieur."
Mr. Sabin suddenly leaned forward. His gaze was compelling. His
tone was low but terrible.
"Annette," he said, "obey me. Send Emil here."
The woman trembled, but she did not move. Mr. Sabin lifted his
forefinger and pointed slowly to the door. The woman's lips parted,
but she seemed to have lost the power of speech.
"Send Emil here!" Mr. Sabin repeated slowly.
Annette turned and left the room, groping her way to the door as
though her eyesight had become uncertain. Mr. Sabin lit a cigarette
and looked for a moment carefully into the small liqueur glass out
of which he had drunk.
"That was unwise," he said softly to himself. "Just such a blunder
might have cost me everything."
He held it up to the light and satisfied himself that no dregs
remained. Then he took from his pocket a tiny little revolver, and
placing it on the table before him, covered it with his handkerchief.
Almost immediately a door at the farther end of the room opened and
closed. A man in dark clothes, small, unnaturally pale, with
deep-set eyes and nervous, twitching mouth, stood before him.
Mr. Sabin smiled a welcome at him.
"Good-morning, Emil Sachs," he said. "I am glad that you have shown
discretion.


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