Edgar Wallace

“ He recognized immediately the white-haired, white-mustached printer, and then he turned his eyes to the girl who sat at Gerald's right hand. And here he had his first pleasant shock. Remembering Sennett's age, he expected a woman of thirty-five and pictured her a little stout and a little awkward.
But this girl could not have been more than twenty-two. She was petite and dainty and dressed with delightful simplicity—the kind of dress that every man admires and so few women have the courage to wear. Her face was delicately molded. ”

“ Jimmy chuckled.
“That's where you fall down in your analysis, Miss Sennett,” he said. “Jerry talks English, but thinks Dutch! The most terrible thing he does is to make all his notes in shorthand—and in Dutch! How does that strike you for a complicated procedure?”
“Do you know Mr. Maggerson?” she asked a little while later, after he had telephoned to the garage for the car and she was making preparations to depart.
“I'm the only man in the world who doesn't,” said Jimmy. “It is queer how greatness can exist right under your nose without your being aware of the fact. Do you know him?” ”

“ I'm taking the car to London, and I shall be away about half an hour.”
The chauffeur had disappeared when Delia Sennett came out.
“What a beautiful car!” she said. “Are you going to drive?”
Jimmy was on the point of answering when an interruption occurred. He had become suddenly conscious that there was a man standing in the drive. The red rear light illuminated dimly for a second, the pattern of a trouser and then the light from the open door illuminated the stranger, and at the sight of him Delia shrank back with a little cry. The man was young and poorly dressed. ”