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Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips), 1866-1946

"The Evil Shepherd"


"On deck, every one, if you please," he insisted. "Refreshments
are being served there. There are inquisitive people who watch
my launch, and it is inadvisable to remain here long."
People hurried out then as though their one desire was to escape
from the scene of the tragedy. Lady Cynthia, still clinging to
Francis' arm, led him to the furthermost corner of the launch.
There were real tears in her eyes, her breath was coming in
little sobs.
"Oh, it was horrible!" she cried. "Horrible! Mr. Ledsam--I
can't help it--I never want to speak to Sir Timothy again!"
One final horror arrested for a moment the sound of voices.
There was a dull splash in the river. Something had been thrown
overboard. The orchestra began to play dance music.
Conversation suddenly burst out. Every one was hysterical. A
Peer of the Realm, red-eyed and shaking like an aspen leaf, was
drinking champagne out of the bottle. Every one seemed to be
trying to outvie the other in loud conversation, in outrageous
mirth. Lady Isabel, with a glass of champagne in her hand,
leaned back towards Francis.
"Well," she asked, "how are you feeling, Mr. Ledsam?"
"As though I had spent half-an-hour in Hell," he answered.
She screamed with laughter.
"Hear this man," she called out, "who will send any poor
ragamuffin to the gallows if his fee is large enough! Of
course," she added, turning back to him, "I ought to remember you
are a normal person and to-night's entertainment was not for
normal persons.


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