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Williams, Valentine, 1883-1946

"Okewood of the Secret Service"

If only Mortimer had not spotted it
already!
Desmond's presence of mind did not desert him. On the pretext of
settling himself more comfortably he edged up another cushion
until it rested upon the other two, thus effectively screening
the hat from Mortimer's view even when he should get up.
"I wish she were here," Desmond added, smiling, "one could not
have a more delightful companion to share one's solitude, I
imagine."
"The lady has disappeared from London under rather suspicious
circumstances;" Mortimer said, letting his grotesque eyes rest
for a moment on Desmond's face, "to be quite frank with you, my
dear fellow, she has been indiscreet, and the police are after
her."
"You don't say!" cried Desmond.
"Indeed, it is a fact," replied the other, "I wish she would take
you as her model, my dear Bellward. You are the pattern of
prudence, are you not?"
He paused perceptibly and Desmond held his breath.
"She has very few reputable friends," Mortimer continued
presently, "under a cloud as she is, she could hardly frequent
the company of her old associates, Mowbury and Lazarro and Mrs.
Malplaquet, you doubtless know whom I mean. I know she has a very
strong recommendation to you, so I naturally thought--well, no
matter!"
He rose and extended his hand.


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