Mr. Marx's SecretOppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
General
Mr. Marx's Secret
Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
Detective and mystery stories; Fiction
"You are a little young for college," he said presently, in a more
matter-of-fact tone; "besides which, I doubt whether you are quite
advanced enough. I have decided, therefore, to send you for two years to
a clergyman in Lincolnshire who receives a few pupils, my own nephew
among them. He is a friend of mine, and will give some shape to your
studies. There are one or two things which I shall ask you to remember
when you get there," he went on.
"First, that this little arrangement between your mother, yourself, and
me remains absolutely a secret among us. Also that you seek, or, at any
rate, do not refuse, the friendship of my nephew, Cecil, Lord Silchester.
From what I can learn I fear that he is behaving in a most unsatisfactory
manner, and, as I know him to be weak-minded and easily led, his
behaviour at present and his character in the future are to a great
extent dependent upon the influence which his immediate companions may
have over him. You understand me?"
I assented silently, for words at that moment were not at my command; my
cheeks were flushed, and my heart was beating with pleasure at the
confidence in me which Mr. Ravenor's words implied. That moment was one
of the sweetest of my life.
"I do not, of course, wish you to play the spy in any way upon my
nephew," Mr. Ravenor continued, "but I shall expect you to tell me the
unbiassed truth should I at any time ask you any questions concerning
him; and if you think, after you have been there some time and have had
an opportunity of judging, that he would be likely to do better
elsewhere, under stricter discipline than at Dr. Randall's, I shall
expect you to tell me so. In plain words, Philip Morton, I ask you to
take an interest in and look after my nephew."
"I will do my best, sir," I answered fervently.
"A youthful Mentor, very!"
The words, accompanied by something closely resembling a sneer, came from
neither Mr. Ravenor nor myself. Either a third person must have been in
the room before my arrival and during the whole of our conversation, or
he must have entered it since by some means unknown to me, for almost at
my elbow, on the side remote from the door, stood the man who had broken
in, without apology or explanation, upon our interview.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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