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

"The Yellow Crayon"

By other
means we have dissociated ourselves from Duson and all connection
with him. I think I could go so far as to say that it would be
impossible to implicate us. Our sole anxiety now, therefore, is to
save you."
Lucille rose to her feet.
"I shall go at once to my husband," she said. "I shall tell him
everything. I shall act on his advice."
The Prince stood over by the door, and she heard the key turn.
"You will do nothing of the sort," he said quietly. "You are in
my power at last, Lucille. You will do my bidding, or--"
"Or what?"
"I shall myself send for the police and give you into custody!"

CHAPTER XXXV
The Prince crossed the hall and entered the morning-room. Felix
was there and Raoul de Brouillac. The Duchess sat at her
writing-table, scribbling a note. Lady Carey, in a wonderful white
serge costume, and a huge bunch of Neapolitan violets at her bosom,
was lounging in an easy-chair, swinging her foot backwards and
forwards. The Duke, in a very old tweed coat, but immaculate as to
linen and the details of his toilet, stood a little apart, with a
frown upon his forehead, and exactly that absorbed air which in the
House of Lords usually indicated his intention to make a speech. The
entrance of the Prince, who carefully closed the door behind him,
was an event for which evidently they were all waiting.


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