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

"The Malefactor"

He seems such a decent young fellow, and he's only just
married. He's in an awful state downstairs. I wish you'd have another
talk with him. I think you'd feel inclined to let him down easy."
Wingrave smiled coldly.
"My dear Aynesworth," he said, "you astonish me. I am not interested
in this young man's future or in his matrimonial arrangements. He has
gambled with me and lost. I presume that he would have taken my money
if I had been the fool they all thought me. As it is, I mean to have
his--down to the last cent!"
"He isn't like the others," Aynesworth protested doggedly. "He's only
a boy--and it seems such jolly hard luck, doesn't it, only four months
married! New York hasn't much pity for paupers. He looks mad enough to
blow his brains out. Have him up, sir, and see if you can't
compromise!"
"Fetch him," Wingrave said curtly.
Aynesworth hurried downstairs. The boy was walking restlessly up and
down the room. The look he turned upon Aynesworth was almost pitiful.
"He'll see you again," Aynesworth said hurriedly. "Come along."
The boy wrung his hand.
"You're a brick!" he declared.

THE HIDDEN HAND
Wingrave glanced up as they entered. He motioned Nesbitt to a chair by
his side, but the young man remained standing.
"My secretary tells me," Wingrave said curtly, "that you cannot pay me
what you owe."
"It's more than I possess in the world, sir," Nesbitt answered.


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