"
"What did you register?"
"Oh," interposed the reporter, "it was the name Dimbledon caught my
eye, sir. You see, there was a paragraph in one of our London
exchanges that you had sailed for America. I'm what we call a hotel
reporter; hunt up prominent and interesting people for interviews. I'm
sure yours is a very interesting story, sir." The reporter was a
pleasant, affable young man, and that was why he was so particularly
efficient in his chosen line of work.
"I was not prepared to disclose my identity so soon," said Lord
Monckton ruefully. "But since you have stumbled upon the truth, it is
far better that I give you the facts as they are. Interviewing is a
novel experience. What do you wish to know, sir?"
And thus it was that, next morning, New York--and the continent as
well--learned that Lord Henry Monckton, ninth Baron of Dimbledon, had
arrived in America on a pleasure trip. The story read more like the
scenario of a romantic novel than a page from life. For years the
eighth Baron of Dimbledon had lived in seclusion, practically
forgotten.
Pages:
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100