Explore "False Evidence" by E. Phillips Oppenheim on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
In less than an hour I was back at Devereux Court. The gong was booming through the hall as I reached the drawing-room, and the little party had already risen to their feet. Maud's hand was resting on the coat-sleeve of a man scarcely as tall as herself, with a fair, insipid-looking face and weak eyes -- whom I knew at once must be Lord Annerley. Sir Francis, who was suffering from a bad attack of gout, was leaning half on his stick, half on Lady Olive's bare, white shoulder; but, at my entrance, he withdrew his hand, and she stepped back, rubbing her arm with a comical air of relief.
"Just in time, Arbuthnot! Come and give me your arm, there's a good fellow. Annerley, this is Mr. Arbuthnot, my agent."