Explore "Ambrose Lavendale, Diplomat" by E. Phillips Oppenheim on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Lavendale paused in the act of struggling with his tie, and looked steadfastly into the mirror in front of him. He had heard no definite sound, yet some queer intuition seemed to have suddenly awakened within his subconscious mind a sense of the mysterious, something close at hand, unaccountable, minatory. His flat was empty and the catch of the front door secure, yet he knew very well that he was being watched. He turned slowly around.
'What the mischief -- -- '