Explore "Stolen Idols" by E. Phillips Oppenheim on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"Doing me well for our farewell dinner, Dad," Gregory murmured appreciatively, as he set down his glass with a little gesture of reverence. "70 Port."
Sir Bertram smiled pleasantly. It was not for the two footmen standing motionless at either end of the magnificent sideboard, or even for Rawson behind his master's chair, to know that this was anything but an ordinary function. Conversation throughout the meal had taken no account of possible catastrophe. They had talked of the sporting side of Gregory's expedition; Sir Bertram himself had shot big game in Canada more than once.