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

"The Great Secret"

I piloted them to a table a little apart, and
handed her the carte.
"We shall remain," she said calmly, and with the air of one giving an
order, "until the place is nearly empty. Come and talk to us as soon as
you can safely."
I bowed, and handed them over to the waiter whose duty it was to serve at
their table. As I passed down the room, I glanced towards the Hirsch
table. They had ceased their conversation. Every one of them was
staring at the newcomers. Soon they began to whisper together. Madame
beckoned to me.
"Do you know who they are, Herr Paul, those people who have just come
in?" she asked. "The little old gentleman, for instance! He is a
Frenchman, is he not?"
I shook my head.
"They are strangers, Madame," I told her. "The gentleman has not spoken
yet, but he wears a red ribbon in his coat."
Madame dismissed me with a little nod. I stood for a moment at a
neighboring table, and I heard Hirsch's low voice.
"If it is he," he muttered, "there is mischief brewing, but he has come
too late."
"If it is he," Madame murmured, "there is danger, there is always danger!
You remember--at Brussels--"
I could hear no more, and I dared not show my curiosity.


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