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

"The Yellow Crayon"

Lady Carey pretended to be absorbed by
the music.
"Has anything happened, Victor?" Lucille whispered.
He hesitated.
"Well, in a sense, yes," he admitted. "I appear to have become
unpopular with our friend, the Prince. Duson, who has always been
a spy upon my movements, was entrusted with a little sleeping
draught for me, which he preferred to take himself. That is all."
"Duson is--"
He nodded.
"He is dead!"
Lucille went very pale.
"This is horrible!" she murmured
"The Prince is a little annoyed, naturally," Mr. Sabin said. "It
is vexing to have your plans upset in such a manner."
She shuddered.
"He is hateful! Victor, I fear that he does not mean to let me
leave Dorset House just yet. I am almost inclined to become, like
you, an outcast. Who knows--we might go free. Bloodshed is always
avoided as much as possible, and I do not see how else they could
strike at me. Social ostracism is their chief weapon. But in
America that could not hurt us."
He shook his head.
"Not yet," he said. "I am sure that Saxe Leinitzer is not playing
the game. But he is too well served here to make defiance wise."
"You run the risk yourself," she protested.
He smiled.
"It is a different matter. By the bye, we are overheard."
Lady Carey had forgotten to listen any more to the music.


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