On a
representative evening it is probably the most brilliant little roomful
in Europe. The boy of course might have lost his head easily enough, and
then been ashamed to face his sister. But when you tell me of her
disappearance, too, you confound me utterly. Is she good-looking?"
"Very!"
"She would go there, of course, asking for her brother," Spencer
continued thoughtfully. "An utterly absurd thing to do, but no doubt she
did, and--look here, Duncombe, I tell you what I'll do. I have my own
two news-grabbers at hand, and nothing particular for them to do this
evening. I'll send them up to the Cafe Montmartre."
"It's awfully good of you, Spencer. I was going myself," Duncombe said,
a little doubtfully.
"You idiot!" his friend said cheerfully, yet with a certain emphasis.
"English from your hair to your boots, you'd go in there and attempt to
pump people who have been playing the game all their lives, and who
would give you exactly what information suited their books. They'd know
what you were there for, the moment you opened your mouth. Honestly,
what manner of good do you think that you could do? You'd learn what
they chose to tell you.
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