The Lost House
The Lost House
by Richard Harding Davis
1
The Lost House
I
It was a dull day at the chancellery. His Excellency the American
Ambassador was absent in Scotland, unveiling a bust to Bobby Burns,
paid for by the numerous lovers of that poet in Pittsburg; the First
Secretary was absent at Aldershot, observing a sham battle; the Military
Attache was absent at the Crystal Palace, watching a foot-ball match; the
Naval Attache was absent at the Duke of Deptford's, shooting pheasants;
and at the Embassy, the Second Secretary, having lunched leisurely at the
Artz, was now alone, but prepared with his life to protect American
interests. Accordingly, on the condition that the story should not be traced
back to him, he had just confided a State secret to his young friend, Austin
Ford, the London correspondent of the New York REPUBLIC.
"I will cable it," Ford reassured him, "ing from a Hungarian
diplomat, temporarily residing in Bloomsbury, while en route to his post in
Patagonia. In that shape, not even your astute chief will suspect its real
source. And further from the truth than that I refuse to go."
"What I dropped in to ask," he continued, "is whether the English are
going to send over a polo team next summer to try to bring back the cup?"
"I've several other items of interest," suggested the Secretary.
"The week-end parties to which you have been invited," Ford objected,
"can wait. Tell me first what chance there is for an international polo
match."
"Polo," sententiously began the Second Secretary, who himself was a
crackerjack at the game, "is a proposition of ponies! Men can be trained
for polo. But polo ponies must be born. Without good ponies----"
James, the page who guarded the outer walls, of the chancellery,
appeared in the doorway.
"Please, Sir, a person," he announced, with a note for the Ambassador
says it's important."
"Tell him to leave it, said the Secretary. "Polo ponies----"
"Yes, Sir," interrupt
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