Dope
by Sax Rohmer
PART FIRST
KAZMAH THE DREAM-READER
CHAPTER I
A MESSAGE FOR IRVIN
Monte Irvin, alderman of the city and prospective Lord Mayor of
London, paced restlessly from end to end of the well-appointed library
of his house in Prince's Gate. Between his teeth he gripped the stump
of a burnt-out cigar. A tiny spaniel lay beside the fire, his beady
black eyes following the nervous movements of the master of the house.
At the age of forty-five Monte Irvin was not ill-looking, and, indeed,
was sometimes spoken of as handsome. His figure was full without being
corpulent; his well-groomed black hair and moustache and fresh if
rather coarse complexion, together with the dignity of his upright
carriage, lent him something of a military air. This he assiduously
cultivated as befitting an ex-Territorial officer, although as he had
seen no active service he modestly refrained from using any title of
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