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Updated: May 7, 2025
"She gave vent to a cry of amazement, and afterwards burst into a fit of tears. At least that is what the waiter told the concierge. The countess is very well known at the Ritz, for she moves in the Court circle, and is often at the smart functions so constantly held there." "And the niece?" I asked. "She is certainly both smart and good-looking."
He made a date with us fellows over a week ago and we've been tracking him in vain for nearly an hour. He never peeped a note about having the dinner here. I thought it was to be at the Ritz and we've been hanging about there for a dog's age. What do you think of it?" Patricia broke in before Bruce or Elinor could reply.
Into the salon of Maxendorf's suite at the Ritz Hotel, freed for a moment from its constant stream of callers, came suddenly, without announcement from a place of hiding, indeed Maraton. He stepped into the room swiftly and closed the door. Maxendorf was standing with his back to his visitor, bending over a map. "Who's that?" he asked, without looking up "You, Franz? You, Beldeman?"
"I take a lot of killing, sir." "So I perceive," said Mr. Carter dryly. "Well, good-bye. Remember you're a marked man now, and take reasonable care of yourself." "Thank you, sir." Hailing a taxi briskly Tommy stepped in, and was swiftly borne to the Ritz' dwelling the while on the pleasurable anticipation of startling Tuppence. "Wonder what she's been up to. Dogging 'Rita' most likely.
Afterward when the tour is over he thinks that "some other scheme will open." I think so too. The Becketts will propose it, to keep us with them. They will urge and argue, little dreaming how I drew them, with a grappling-hook resolve to become a barnacle on their ship! To-morrow we move to the Ritz. The Becketts insist.
The writing was fine and delicate, and the ink yellow with age. Sir Henry Marquis turned the pages slowly and with care for the paper was fragile. We had dined early at the Ritz and come in later to his great home in St. James's Square.
"I was in town yesterday interviewing butlers, that Swiss I told you about refused to be glared at by Edmond and left us on the verge of a dinner party, summing us all up in a burst of pure German, and there was Alice having a lonely lunch at the Ritz, just back from her mother's convalescent chair.
The message consisted of one word, and the word was "Cairo." Cara, with no suspicion of what was transpiring in Puntal, beguiled by the spell of smooth seas and dolce-far-niente softness of sky, was once more the frank and charming companion of the American days. The single word of the Marconigram had left the American in perplexity. Evidently either Karyl or Von Ritz was to meet them at Cairo.
"Serve her right for trusting strangers. The saints alone know when she'll see her money again. She shouldn't be so soft hearted. It doesn't pay in these days." "Neither do we when we can help it." They both laughed. "But when you are Madame let me see, what was the name of the young monsieur, they told you at the Ritz?" "Egerton." "Ah yes. When you are Madame Egerton "
And I had the magnificent joy of telling her that she was referring to "Porcelain and Pink," which had appeared there several months before. These next stories are written in what, were I of imposing stature, I should call my "second manner." "The Diamond as Big as the Ritz," which appeared last summer in the "Smart Set," was designed utterly for my own amusement.
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