Mr. Marx's Secret

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

“Where is—he?” he asked hoarsely.

“Do you mean Mr. Marx?” I said.

“Yes.”

“He is in London.”

“Ah!”

There was an expression in his face partly of disappointment, partly of relief. He drew a long breath and remained silent, as though waiting to be questioned.

“Do you want money?” my father asked.

“No.”

“Do you want to give up your secret, to let the world know the truth?”

“Yes.”