E Phillips Oppenheim

Mysterious Mr. Sabin E Phillips Oppenheim

"To all such meetings as these!" cried Densham, lifting his champagne glass from under thesoft halo of the rose-shaded electric lights. "Let us drink to them, Wolfenden-Mr. Felix!""To all such meetings!" echoed his vis-à-vis, also fingering the delicate stem of his glass. "Anexcellent toast!""To all such meetings as these!" murmured the third man, who made up the little party. "Acapital toast indeed!"They sat at a little round table in the brilliantly-lit supper-room of one of London's mostfashionable restaurants. Around them were the usual throng of well dressed men, ofwomen with bare shoulders and flashing diamonds, of dark-visaged waiters, deft, silent, swift-footed. The pleasant hum of conversation, louder and more unrestrained as the hourgrew towards midnight, was varied by the popping of corks and many little trills offeminine laughter. Of discordant sounds there were none. The waiters' feet fell noiselesslyupon the thick carpet, the clatter of plates was a thing unheard of. From the balcony outsidecame the low, sweet music of a German orchestra played by master hands.