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

"The Profiteers"

"I don't like the way you are talking, and I'm dead off the
B. & I. myself. I'd cut my connection with it, if I were you. Been
looking for trouble for a long time--and, great Scot, I believe they're
going to get it!"
"Damned rubbish!" Lord Dredlinton muttered angrily.
"Heavens! Jimmy's in earnest!" Sarah exclaimed, rising. "I am sure it's
time we went. We are overdue at his mother's, and one of my cylinders
is missing. Come on, Jimmy.--Good-by, Josephine dear! You'll forgive
us if we hurry off? I did tell you we had to go directly after dinner,
didn't I?"
"You did, dear," Josephine assented, walking towards the door with her
friend. "Come in and see me again soon."
There was the sound of voices in the hall. Lord Dredlinton started
eagerly.
"That's the fellow from Scotland Yard, I hope," he said. "Promised to
come round to-night. Perhaps they've news of Stanley."
The door was thrown open, and the new butler ushered in a tall, thin man
dressed in morning clothes of somewhat severe cut.
"Inspector Shields, my lord," he announced.


CHAPTER XIX

Lord Dredlinton's impatience was almost feverish. One would have imagined
that Stanley Rees had been one of his dearest friends, instead of a young
man whom he rather disliked.
"Come in. Inspector," he invited. "Come in. Glad to see you. Any news?"
"None whatever, my lord," was the laconic reply.


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