Explore "Mr. Marx's Secret" by E. Phillips Oppenheim on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I followed my guide to the end of the corridor, through a door which he unlocked and carefully locked again, and past the side of the deserted stage, on which I paused for a moment to gaze with wonder at the array of ropes and pulleys and runners which the carpenters were busy putting to rights, and at the canvas-covered, unlit auditorium, which looked now -- strange transformation -- like the mouth of some dark cavern. After picking our way carefully, we reached a door on which was painted "Manager's Room. " A voice from inside bade us enter and I was ushered in.
Mr. Marx was seated in an easy-chair, talking somewhat earnestly to a slim, dark young man, who was leaning against the mantelpiece. An older man was writing at a table at the other end of the room, with his back to the door.