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Yates, Dornford, 1885-1960

"Berry And Co."


"Isn't that sickening?" said I. "Now we shall never know what her theory
was."
"It's all your fault, whoever you are. If you hadn't butted in----"
"I don't know what you mean," I retorted. "I was ushered into your
presence, so to speak, by _la force majeure_. French. Very difficult."
"Well, when you heard us talking, you ought to have got off the line."
"I should have, if you hadn't started disparaging my headgear. I repeat,
it was a hat of unusual elegance. It had a personality of its own."
"But it wasn't your hat we were discussing."
I sighed.
"All right," I said wearily. "It wasn't. Have it your own way. Some
other fool followed a silver-grey Homburg twice round the Park this
morning. Some other fool----"
A little gasp interrupted me.
"But how did you know my number?"
"I didn't. I don't. I never could have been about to should. Negatives
all the way. It's just chance, my dear. Chance with a Capital J--I mean
C. D'you mind if I smoke?"
Her reply was preceded by a refreshing gurgle.
"Not at all," said my lady. "D'you mean to say you chased us all that
way?"
"Further. And if it hadn't been for that fire-engine----"
"I remember. Wilkins turned down a side-street.


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