An Amiable CharlatanOppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
General
An Amiable Charlatan
Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
Detective and mystery stories
"This man is mad!" Mr. Parker sighed, leaning back in his place--"stark,
staring mad! His interference with my meals is becoming unwarrantable."
"If you take my advice you will avoid a scene," the detective said,
leaning a little over the table. "Believe me, I am not to be trifled with.
If you do not come willingly there are other means. I am simply trying to
avoid a disturbance in a public restaurant."
Mr. Parker rose reluctantly to his feet.
"Eve, dear," he said, "I suppose we may as well obey this very autocratic
person. The sooner we go the sooner we shall be back to supper. Mr.
Walmsley, I owe you my most profound apologies. I had no idea when I asked
you to join us that you would become involved in anything disagreeable."
"Don't mind me," I begged him. "I am glad to come. Perhaps we had better
get it over as soon as possible."
"We shall be back," Mr. Parker explained to Luigi, who had strolled up to
see what was happening, "in twenty minutes. Prepare, if you please, three
oyster cocktails, some grilled cutlets, and saute potatoes. Thank you,
Luigi. In twenty minutes, mind!"
We passed out toward the entrance. Mr. Cullen was walking with almost
professional proximity to his companion. Eve and I were a few steps in the
rear.
"Eve," I whispered, drawing her for a moment close to me, "remember that
whatever comes of this--whatever happens--there is no word I have ever
said to you, or to your father about you, which I do not mean and shall
not always mean."
She looked at me a little curiously. From the first her own demeanor had
been singularly unmoved. During the last few seconds, however, she had
grown paler. She suddenly took my hand and gave it a little squeeze.
"You really are a little more than nice!" she said.
We drove to the police station and Mr. Cullen ushered us at once into a
private room, where an inspector was seated at a table.
"Mr. Hennessey, sir," he began, "I have a charge of theft against this man
and his daughter. I watched them at the opera house to-night. At the
entrance they were both of them hustling Lady Orstline. As you may have
heard, she cried out suddenly that her pearl necklace had been stolen. I
rushed for these two, but by some means or other they got away. I followed
them to Stephano's restaurant and discovered them with the necklace on the
table in front of them; The man Parker was showing it to the other two. He
attempted to conceal it, but I was just in time."
The inspector nodded.
"Very good, Mr. Cullen," he said. "Where is the necklace?"
The detective produced it proudly and laid it upon the table before him.
The inspector dipped his pen in the ink.
"What is your name?" he asked Mr. Parker.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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