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

"The Black Box"



2.
The Professor swung round in his chair and greeted Quest with some
surprise but also a little disappointment.
"No news of Craig?" he asked.
Quest sank into a chair. He was fresh from the Turkish baths and was
enjoying the luxury of clean linen and the flavour of an excellent cigar.
"I got Craig all right," he replied. "He came to the Servants' Club where
I was waiting for him. My luck's out, though. The place was burnt to the
ground last night. I saved his life and then the brute gave me away to the
police. I had to make my escape as best I could."
The Professor tapped the table peevishly.
"This is insufferable," he declared. "I have had no shaving water; my
coffee was undrinkable; I can find nothing. I have a most important
lecture to prepare and I cannot find any of the notes I made upon the
subject."
Quest stared at the Professor for a moment and then laughed softly.
"Well," he remarked, "you are rather an egoist, Professor, aren't you?"
"Perhaps I am," the latter confessed. "Still, you must remember that the
scientific world on those few occasions when I do appear in public,
expects much of me. My sense of proportion may perhaps be disarranged by
this knowledge. All that I can realise at the present moment, is this. You
seem to have frightened away the one man in the world who is indispensable
to me."
Quest smoked in silence for a moment.
"Any mail for me, Professor?" he asked, abruptly.
The Professor opened a drawer and handed him a telegram.


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