Mr. Marx's Secret

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

I leapt from the bed and plunged my still aching head into a basin of water.

“What is the matter, Philip? You will be ill again if you excite yourself,” my father said wondering.

“I’m all right,” I answered. “What is the time?”

“Four o’clock.”

“Quick, then, and we shall catch the five o’clock train to Mellborough,” I urged.

“To Mellborough! But how about de Cartienne?”

“de Cartienne! He exists no longer! It is Marx we want.”

Then the truth broke in upon my father, and he sprang to his feet with a low cry.

“Philip, why did you not tell me before?”

“I only knew last night for certain. Thank God, I kept it to myself. He thinks himself safe as Mr. Marx—safer than flying the country as the Count de Cartienne—the villain!”