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Updated: June 19, 2025
"Ay," assented Radlett, "well met, beef or mutton." Ingrow euphemized, "I shall be well content with bread and cheese and dreams," as he glanced admiration at Brilliana. Bardon grunted, "I would sell all my dreams for a slice of cold boar's head." Halfman addressed them in the character of Father Capulet. "We have a trifling foolish banquet towards."
"Wait a minute hold on!" exclaimed Andy, sharply, and there was something in his voice that caused the detective to pause. "Well, what is it?" the officer growled. "I haven't any time to waste." "Do you really want him on a robbery charge?" asked Andy. "I do if his name is Link Bardon," was the cool answer. "I guess he won't attempt to deny it. I've been on his trail for some time."
Everything worth saying seemed to have been said, everything worth doing to have been done. Suddenly, in that silence, Bardon caught sight of Evander where he stood apart, disdainful, between his guards, and the sight pricked his wits. Turning to his mates, he thumbed at the prisoner over his shoulder. "Should we not make the crop-ear yonder pledge the Lady of Loyalty House?" he questioned.
It had evidently been around a small box or bottle. The address was evidently that of some firm doing business in some town in New York State. What the "ark" could stand for, he could not surmise. As the detective left the Bardon house, he saw a middle-aged man entering the Langmore mansion. The man was well dressed and carried a dress-suit case. "A visitor of some sort," he mused.
I gom back bresently. My bill! Confound it! I want something to eat first. When is that Bisque coming? Waiter. Ach, peg your bardon, ve haf peen so pusy all day. Your Bisque vill pe retty diregly. Horatia. Now we're farther off from getting any food than ever! I suppose you mean to do something, AUGUSTUS? Augustus. Of course certainly. I shall speak very strongly.
"Well, I don't live much of anywhere," was the reply. "I'm a sort of Jack-of-all-trades. My name is Lincoln Bardon Link, I'm generally called. I work mostly at farming, but I'll never work for Amos Snad again. He's too hard." "Where are you going after you leave here?" asked Frank Newton. "Oh, I've got a friend who works on a farm over in Cherry Hollow. I can go there and get a place.
Alfred Bardon is a physician, and, thinking there might still be a spark of life in Mr. Langmore, did all he possibly could to resuscitate the gentleman. The servant girl ran upstairs to find some drugs for him and in the upper hallway stumbled over the dead body of Mrs. Langmore." "And how had she died?" "In the same manner as her husband.
"So I am a detective, and I don't want any of your funny work!" was the snappish retort. "There's my badge," and it was flashed from under the armhole of the man's vest, being fastened to his suspenders, where most plain-clothes men carry their official emblem. "A detective!" gasped Andy. "What's the matter? Why do you want Link Bardon?"
"Yes, it is I. I have been behind you ever since you left the house in Bardon Road. It was rash of you to cross the heath at this time and in this weather. I rather fancied that something of this kind would be likely to happen, and so took the liberty of following you." "Then it was you I heard behind me?" "It was I yes. I shouldn't have intruded myself upon your notice if you hadn't called out.
You will no doubt recollect the sensation caused by the theft of the jewels of the Princess Wilhelmine of Schaumbourg-Lippe from the lady's-maid in the rapide between Cannes and Les Arcs, the robbery from the Marseilles branch of the Crédit Lyonnais, and the great haul of plate from the château of Bardon, the Paris millionaire, close to Arcachon."
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