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

"The Double Life Of Mr. Alfred Burton"

I am going to think over this matter to-night once more. It
is very possible that I may see my way clear to do as you ask."
"Mr. Burton, sir," the professor said, grasping his hand, "I
congratulate you. I felt sure that your common sense would assert
itself. Let me assure you of one thing, too. Indirectly you will be
the cause of marvelous discoveries, enlightening discoveries, being made
as to the source of some of that older civilization which still
bewilders the student of prehistoric days."
Mr. Bomford had less to say but he was quite as emphatic.
"If you only think hard enough, Mr. Burton," he declared, "you can't
make a mistake."
He saw them into the motor, Edith in a cloak of lace which made her seem
like some dainty, fairylike creature as she stepped from the pavement
into a corner of the landaulette. Afterwards, he walked with uplifted
heart through the streets and back to his rooms. He let himself in with
a mechanical turn of the key. On the threshold he stood still in sudden
amazement. The lights were all turned on, the room was in rank
disorder. Simmering upon the hearth were the remains of his novel;
upset upon the table several pots of paint. Three chairs were lashed
together with a piece of rope.


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