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Thurston, Katherine Cecil, 1875-1911

"The Masquerader"

I was almost cool when
I got up from the bureau and pressed the bell--"
"The bell?"
"Yes. I rang for a servant. I had to send the wire myself,
so I had to get a cab." His voice rose to irritability. "I
pressed the bell several times; but the thing had gone wrong
--'twouldn't work. At last I gave it up and went into the
corridor to call some one."
"Well?" In the intense suspense of the moment the word
escaped Loder.
"Oh, I went out of the room; but there at the door, before I
could call anybody, I knocked up against that idiot Greening.
He was looking for me--for you, rather--about some beastly
Wark affair. I tried to explain that I wasn't in a state for
business; I tried to shake him off, but he was worse than
Blessington. At last, to be rid of the fellow, I went with
him to the study--"
"But the telegram?" Loder began; then again he checked
himself. "Yes--yes--I understand," he added, quietly.
"I'm getting to the telegram! I wish you wouldn't jar me with
sudden questions. I wasn't in the study more than a minute
--more than five or six minutes--" His voice became confused;
the strain of the connected recital was telling upon him.


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