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Updated: June 9, 2025


"A little ebullition of feeling, my dear Paul," he explained, "on seeing you. You met Mrs. Bundercombe? You have heard the news?" "I gathered," I remarked, "that Mrs. Bundercombe's sense of duty is taking her to Leeds." Mr. Bundercombe breathed a resigned sigh. "We shall be alone," he announced, with ill-concealed jubilation, "if we have any luck at all, for three days! One never knows, though!

"He's a pleasant old gentleman, that connection of yours!" "Glad you think so," I answered. "I don't call myself a bad-natured fellow, and to-day I feel inclined to be friends with every one; but I tell you frankly I can't bear the sight of Lord Porthoning. He has to be asked, but he's like a wet blanket wherever he goes." Mr. Bundercombe glanced round a moment. Then he leaned toward me.

I moved a few steps farther in and glanced down the restaurant. Then I returned. "But, my dear Mrs. Bundercombe," I said, "your husband has gone long ago! He went out the other way. I am not sure but I believe we saw him in Bond Street quite three quarters of an hour ago." "There is another way out?" Mrs. Bundercombe asked hastily. "Certainly there is," I told her; "into Jermyn Street."

Bundercombe before witnesses," he said, "I do not imagine that our case will require very much more proof." I was completely nonplussed Mr. Bundercombe's confession was so ready, his demeanor so unalterably good-tempered. I went on to ask, however, what certainly seemed to me the most important question under the circumstances.

That was quite enough for me. I engaged the room." I glanced once more at Mr. Bundercombe's nails. "You, at any rate," I remarked, "have been a faithful customer." "Paul," Mr. Bundercombe continued, "I am playing a part. I am playing the part of a silly old fool. It isn't easy sometimes, but I am keeping it up.

Bundercombe," he concluded, "I am afraid I must advise you, very much against my own inclinations, to settle this matter." Mr. Bundercombe left the lawyer's office thoroughly depressed. "It isn't the money!" he declared gloomily. "It's being bested by this little gang of thieves that irritates me!" "I am sure," I told him, "that Mr. Wymans' advice is sound.

"This is the old fool you could twist round your finger, who found the money for your manicure parlor, and who was in love with you, eh? What are you, anyway?" he added, turning furiously upon Mr. Bundercombe. "A cop? Is this why you were trying to put up to me a few weeks ago?" Mr. Bundercombe waved aside the accusation. "Nothing of the sort!" he declared. "Then what is it you want?"

Bundercombe in what part of America his home was, of course it was all clear to me. What a small world it is! Do you know," she concluded impressively, "that it was just these two people, Mr. Bundercombe and his daughter, who were so amazingly kind to Reggie when he was out in the States on his way to Dicky's ranch!" I was for a moment absolutely thunderstruck. "Did you er remind Mr.

His sudden fit of anger, justifiable though it certainly seemed on the face of it, nevertheless took both Mr. Bundercombe and myself by surprise. The former, indeed, was in the act of opening the door, when he paused. Once more he caught my connection by the collar and thrust his hand into the other coat pocket. When he withdrew it it was filled with rings, a bracelet and a pendant.

I had 'em lying in the safe deposit of the bank, meaning some day to destroy 'em. You've got that apology all right?" Mr. Wymans slowly smiled. He raised his glass to his lips. "You are a very clever man, Mr. Bundercombe!" he said. Mr.

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