The Duke in the Suburbs

by Edgar Wallace

"Thank heavens—glad to meet you, Mr. Sime."

"Mrs. Outram."

"Weird old bird—how are you, Mrs. Outram, glad to meet you."

"Mr. R. B. Rake, B.A. The editor of the Lewisham——"

"I am honoured to make your acquaintance, my lord," said the boisterous journalist, "there is no more pleasing feature of our modern life than the democratizing of the peerage."

"Noisy devil! How de do—glad to meet you."

"Mr. Pulser, Mrs. Pulser, Miss Pulser."

"Oh Lord! how many more of em? Glad to meet you, how de do?" There was scarcely room to move, the guests overflowed into the hall and on to the stairs.

Sir Harry, wedged in one corner, surveyed the scene with a glow of pardonable pride. To him it represented the Duke's coup de grâce.

Mr. Rake wormed his way through the press of people to his side.