Genre - Mystery & Crime. You are on the page - 22
mine, and tonight--and why shouldn't you have ten pound as well as another?""There's nothing to do but what you say?" I asked. "Nothing--not a thing!" he affirmed. "And the time?" I said. "And the word--for surety?" "Eleven o'clock is the time," he answered. "Eleven--an hour before midnight. And as for the word--get you to the place and wait about a bit, and if you see nobody there, say out loud, 'From James Gilverthwaite as is sick
ave in me the instinct of the chase. Were I a man I should be a trapper of criminals, trailing them as relentlessly as no doubt my sheepskin ancestor did his wild boar. But being an unmarried woman, with the handicap of my sex, my first acquaintance with crime will probably be my last. Indeed, it came near enough to being my last acquaintance with anything.The property was owned by Paul Armstrong, the president of the Traders' Bank, who at the time we took the house was in the west with his
e building, divided into apartments or flats of a dismal and dingy sort. We found the landlady in the basement: a gaunt woman in soiled gray, with a hard, thin-lipped mouth and pale, suspicious eyes. She was rocking vigorously in a creaking chair and sewing on a pair of overalls, while three dirty kids tussled with a mongrel puppy up and down the room.Dean showed his badge, and told her that we wanted to speak to her in privacy. She got up to chase the kids and their dog out, and then stood
hed. "I think my way of spelling is just as good as hers."Bartouki and the boys laughed sympathetically. The little merchant said, "Whatever the spelling, El Mouski will fascinate you. Many things are made there especially for tourists. Some of the workmanship is excellent, and the prices are very low." "We haven't had much luck with bazaars that cater to tourists," Scotty replied. "We prefer markets where local people buy, because the things are more
nd; saw also the open wonder on the reporter's pleasant face."Who is your friend, Norton?" Braine asked indifferently, his head still unturned. "Stanley Hargreave. Met him in Hongkong when I was sent over to handle a part of the revolution. War correspondence stuff. First time I ever ran across him on Broadway at night. We've since had some powwows over some rare books. Queer old cock; brave as a lion, but as quiet as a mouse." "Bookish, eh? My kind. Bring him