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Updated: June 2, 2025
Odell-Carney was a Lady Somebody-or-other before she married the second time. She's terribly smart, Roxbury." "How, in the name of heaven, do they happen to be hobnobbing, as you call it, with the Rodneys, may I ask?" "Well, it seems that Odell-Carney is promoting a new South African mining venture. I have it from Freddie Ulstervelt that he's trying to sell something like a million shares to Mr.
Rodney. "Oh, yes, I know," drawled Mr. Odell-Carney. "You American architects are doing great things, 'pon my soul," he added luminously. Brock stuck his eyeglass in tighter and hemmed with raucous precision. Mrs. Medcroft stiffened perceptibly. "Oh, but he's Mr. Roxbury Medcroft, the great English architect," cried Mrs. Rodney, in some little confusion. Odell-Carney suddenly remembered.
If you come around here bothering her again, I'll have the law upon you. The Medcrofts are English citizens and " "Oh, they are, are they?" sneered Mr. Githens, with a sinister chuckle. "Who the devil are you, sir?" "I'm from Scotland Yard." "I thought so. You've proved it, 'pon my soul. I am Odell-Carney. Daresay you've heard of me." "I know you by sight, sir. But that " "Clever chap, by Jove!
Coming back to Odell-Carney: the maid on his floor was making up a room in close proximity when a most annoying thing happened to her. A porter who had reason to dislike her came along and turned her key from the outside, locking her in the room. She couldn't get out, and she had been warned against making a sound that might disturb the English guest.
Her husband had not telegraphed the word releasing her from the sorry compact. She loyally decided to stand by the agreement, no matter what the cost, until she received word from London that he had triumphed or failed in his brave fight against the "bloodsuckers." "I will explain to-morrow, dear Mrs. Odell-Carney," she pleaded. "Don't press me now. Everything shall be all right.
Come, now, let's talk over the situation sensibly." Just then they passed beyond the hearing of the astonished eavesdropper. Good heaven, what was this? Not his child? Two minutes later Mrs. Odell-Carney was back at the spring where they had left her somnolent husband, who had refused to climb a hill because all of his breath was required to smoke a cigaret.
Rodney fairly screeched with horror when she heard that Tootles was "a poor little beggar," and "all that sort of thing, you know." "My dear," said Mrs. Odell-Carney, hating herself all the time for engaging in the spread of gossip, but femininely unable to withstand the test, "your excellent cousin, Mrs.
I had Mademoiselle Le Brun over to hear the band concert she is related to that painter woman, by the way; I told Katherine she was. Say, gentlemen, we'll stand by Mrs. Medcroft, won't we? Count me in. If it's anything that money can square, I'm here with a letter of credit six figures long." "Join us," said Odell-Carney warmly. "You're a good sort, after all." They sat down at a table.
This function was necessarily delayed until Odell-Carney had time to go into the details of a particularly annoying episode of the afternoon. He was telling the story to his friend Rodney, and of course everything was at a standstill until he got through. It seems that Mr. Odell-Carney felt the need of a nap at three o'clock.
He crossed his legs and looked insupportably sure of himself. They reached Munich late in the afternoon and went at once to the Hotel Vier Jahretzeiten, where they were to find the Odell-Carneys. Mr. Odell-Carney was a middle-aged Englishman of the extremely uninitiative type.
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