Читать книгу A King by Night онлайн

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Only one man in London knew that he was "Priscilla Fairlord," the author of "Hearts Aflame," or that "Mary Janet Colebrooke," whose passionate romance, "Parted at the Altar," was in a fair way to being a best seller, wore trousers and smoked a pipe. But, thanks to this success, he shared a suite in Curzon Street with Selby Lowe; could afford the luxury of a light car, and the not excessive expense of an office.

He opened the door of an outer lobby, whose solitary occupant, a very small boy, concealed a cigarette he was smoking behind him, and announced the arrival of a visitor.

"A lady?" said Bill, aghast. "Who is she?"

"I don't know who she is, sir; but she's an American. I understand American."

Bill did not wait to discuss the linguistic achievements of his "clerk," but burst into the inner office. The girl who was standing by the window turned with a smile, and the sight of her took his breath away. He had never seen anything quite so fragrantly beautiful as Gwendda Guildford.

"You're Mr. Joyner?" she said, and seemed surprised and a little disappointed, and he guessed that she had expected somebody more near her idea of a staid lawyer.