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

"The Great Secret"

What on
earth can you have to say to the Prime Minister?"
"I'm afraid, Gilbert," I answered, "that I can't tell you--just yet. You
see it isn't my own affair at all. It's--another man's secret."
My cousin was palpably disappointed.
"Well," he said, a little curtly, "whatever sort of a secret it is, it
hasn't agreed with you very well. I never saw you look so seedy--and
years older too! What on earth have you been doing with yourself?"
I shrugged my shoulders.
"I've had a cold," I said. "Got wet through shooting one day last week."
My cousin regarded me incredulously.
"A cold! You!" he remarked. "I like that! I don't believe you ever had
such a thing in your life!"
I leaned forward in the cab to look at the placards of the afternoon
papers.
"Any news in town?" I asked.
"None at all," Gilbert answered. "There's scarcely any one about. I'm off
to Hamburg to-morrow myself."
"And Lord Polloch?" I asked.
"He's off to Scotland to-night for a fortnight's golf. Afterwards I
believe he's going abroad. You must confess that your appearance here is
a little extraordinary.


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