Explore "First Person Paramount" by Ambrose Pratt on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
That paste-board gave me a shock; it sent a chill, creepy feeling down my spine. It smelt dangerous. I read the name again: "Mr. Sefton Dagmar!" So, while my master was away journeying down to Newhaven to keep the appointment, I had fabricated, with his nephew; by a snarl of chance, his nephew had called at his house in London. Perhaps they had passed each other on the road.
I turned over the card and received a second shock. Across it was scrawled in pencil:"Will call to-morrow morning at 10. Urgent."