E. Phillips Oppenheim

“ I hesitated, but Sara thrust her arm through mine.
"We trust you," she said. "You must come with us."
Arrived on the first floor, we traversed what seemed to be an interminable corridor until we came at last to a green baize door which, on being swung open, revealed an inner one, which the Baroness unlocked. Immediately I was conscious that we were in the uninhabited part of the chateau. The Baroness, who was in front, came to a stop and we all paused.
"We make a mistake," she said in a low tone. "There is no place here for strangers." ”

“ Leonard Cotton, was, as you have doubtless surmised, at one time known as the Count von Hantzauel, whose notorious deeds in Brussels during the German occupation are infamous throughout the world."
"I wouldn't have insulted Leonard to such an extent if I'd had the least idea beforehand who he was going to turn out to be," I declared.
"I shall hate my own face more than ever," Leonard groaned.
Mr. Thomson smiled amiably. ”

“ CONUNDRUM NUMBER THREE THE SPIDER'S PARLOUR We three—Leonard Cotton, Rose Mindel and I, Maurice Lister, who comprised the much-advertised little troupe of English artistes recently arrived at Brussels—sipped the very excellent black coffee provided for our delectation by Monsieur Huber, the proprietor of the Quatres Etoiles, gazed around with interest at the motley crowd by which we were surrounded, applauded the performance of a little French soubrette upon the stage with all the abandon required by fellow artistes, and exchanged mutual smiles of well-being and content. ”

“ You need have no fear. The shutters are tightly closed. No one will know that human beings have dared to penetrate into the spider's parlour."
I had my first comprehensive view of the room—a bare, official-looking apartment, with a huge writing table near the window, a heap of empty champagne bottles and cigar boxes in one corner. There was dust everywhere. It seemed, indeed, as though the room might not have been opened for many months.
"You need have no fear," the Baroness repeated. "The shutters are fast closed. You can look around on the scene of your former triumphs. ”

“ The phlegmatic young woman, who had been introduced to us as Mademoiselle Trudens, muttered something in Flemish as he left the box. The Baroness shook her head reprovingly.
"Monsieur Henri Destin," she pronounced, "is a person of importance. One must humour his whims."
Leonard glanced at his watch and rose.
"I fear that I must be excused, Baroness," he regretted. "My turn to sing is close at hand."
We also rose. The Baroness eyed us reflectively.
"I am having a few friends out to supper to-night at my chateau," she said. "It will give me great pleasure if you will come after the performance. ”

“ I knew then that I was in love with Rose, if I had ever doubted it. I have always flattered myself that I displayed great presence of mind.
"Sara," I said, giving a very excellent extempore performance of British stupidity and magnanimity combined, "I ask for no reward beforehand. I wait till the task is done." ”

“ There are people coming and going all day."
"You have a suggestion?" I ventured.
"Yes," she answered. "I was at the Café des Quatres Etoiles when you did your imitations the other night. You have a wonderful gift of making up. My cousin has undertaken to hide Albert at the chateau, if we can get him there. Good! You must come here, make up my brother, say, to imitate your friend Monsieur Cotton, whom he is not unlike. Then you drive out to the chateau quite openly to one of my cousin's supper parties. Albert will disappear and all will be well." ”

“ The Baroness said polite things about our performance, enquired about our impressions of Brussels, and spoke calmly of her residence in the city during the period of German occupation. Her conversation was easy enough, and gracious, yet I could not get it out of my head that her interest in us did not arise solely from the fact of our being professional entertainers.
"You find it pays," she asked, a little abruptly, "while living in Brussels is so dear, to perform at this café for Monsieur Huber's salary?" ”

“ There was a considerable space of polished floor for dancing, and at the opposite end of the apartment a large round table laid for supper.
"I fear," the Baroness confided, "that my apartment resembles too much a restaurant. Still, what can one do? My friends love dancing informally, the men love their supper, and this huge apartment, which was built for a music room, would be wasted if I used it in any other fashion. We have a custom here which always prevails. Supper is served at 12.30. As guests arrive, they seat themselves." ”

“ I recognised her as one of the regular patrons of the café.
"The Baroness," Monsieur Huber continued, "is one of my best clients. She is very good to all my artistes. Sometimes she has them at her home. She pays, too—pays very well. But excuse me—she calls."
The Baroness, with a short, rather thick-set Belgian girl, and a fat, elderly man, who had almost fallen on to the stage applauding the little French soubrette, occupied the stage box, which was on a level with the promenade. Monsieur Huber hurried over towards it, exchanged a few words with his patroness and returned to us. ”

“ We were pitching pretty heavily and facing a northwest gale, but it happened that we were all pretty good sailors, and though the high seas came thundering against the closed portholes, and the electric lights swung above our heads, we were quite able to do justice to a very excellent repast. ”