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

"A Millionaire of Yesterday"

I find him alive, do the best I can for him,
and here the first act ends. Then what afterwards? I hear of you
as an empire-maker and a millionaire. Nevertheless, Monty was
alive and you knew he was alive, but when I reach Attra he has been
spirited away! I want to know where! You say you don't know. It
may be true, but it doesn't sound like it."
Trent's under-lip was twitching, a sure sign of the tempest within,
but he kept himself under restraint and said never a word.
Francis continued, "Now I do not wish to be your enemy, Scarlett
Trent, or to do you an ill turn, but this is my word to you.
Produce Monty within a week and open reasonable negotiations for
treating him fairly, and I will keep silent. But if you can't
produce him at the end of that time I must go to his relations
and lay all these things before them."
Trent rose slowly to his feet.
"Give me your address," he said, "I will do what I can."
Francis tore a leaf from his pocket-book and wrote a few words upon
it.
"That will find me at any time," he said. "One moment, Trent. When
I saw you first you were with - a lady."
"Well!"
"I have been away from England so long," Francis continued slowly,
"that my memory has suffered. Yet that lady's face was somehow
familiar.


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