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Williams, Valentine, 1883-1946

"Okewood of the Secret Service"

My friend, for all my surroundings, I am not what I seem.
Pate has drawn me into the system of which you form part; but,
believe me, I know nothing of the service to which you and
Mortimer and the rest belong!"
She spoke with painful earnestness and in a tone so mournful that
Desmond felt himself profoundly moved. "If only she is not
acting!" he thought, and sought to shake himself free from the
spell which this girl seemed able to cast about him at will.
"Promise me that you will respect my confidence and help me!" she
said and held out her hand.
Desmond's big hand closed about hers and he felt an odd thrill of
sympathy with her as their hands met.
"I promise!" he said and murmured to himself something very like
a prayer that he might not be called upon to redeem his word.
She let her eyes rest for a moment on his.
"Be careful!" she urged warningly, while the ghost of a smile
flitted across her face. "Very soon I may call upon you to make
good your words!"
"I promise!" he repeated--and his eyes never left hers.
"Then," she cried passionately, "find out who has stolen for the
Crown Prince the Star of Poland at the price of the life of a
harmless old man!"
"The Star of Poland!" repeated Desmond. "What is the Star of
Poland"
The girl drew herself up proudly and there was a certain dignity
about her manner as she answered.


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