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"I knew the rest and sleep would bring me around all right, and Miss Martin has given me a twentieth of a grain of strychnine. What's the news?" "I'll sketch it to you. But how about dinner?" "I've arranged for us to have it up here, if you don't mind?" Braceway agreed, and Miss Martin straightened up the other room, where the meal was served.
It might have been just a great big bluff that's all. And yet, that Braceway he talked about is good, a wonder. He's done some wonderful work." "Here's one point," Greenleaf advanced: "why didn't he ask for help from the police yesterday afternoon when he lost track of that fellow with the gold tooth?" "Yes," the other returned absent-mindedly; "why didn't he?" Bristow looked at his watch.
His glance at the two men gave them the impression that he paid them a certain tribute. "Both of you," he continued, "are gentlemen. Mr. Braceway, you're a personal friend of my son-in-law. Mr. Bristow, I know you will respect my confidence, in so far as it can be respected." They both bowed assent. At the same moment the telephone rang. Bristow excused himself and answered it.
That is, if you don't object if you don't think I'd be in the way." Braceway was clearly aware of the lame man's desire to accompany him so as to be associated with every phase of the work on the case, and to make it stand out emphatically in the long run that he, Bristow, pitting his ingenuity against Braceway, had gathered the evidence establishing the negro's guilt beyond question.
Morley: do you think he has stolen money from his bank, for instance?" "Why, no! He was speculating and losing. I'm glad you asked about him. I shall never see him again never!" Bristow left her with the assurance that he and Braceway would make the best possible use of her theory and the facts she had adduced. He walked slowly back to his bungalow, his limp more pronounced than usual.
Because of a warm friendship for George Withers, he had rushed to conclusions which took no account of the dead woman's husband. He had forgotten that the faces of Morley and Withers were shaped on similar lines. If any other detective had done that, Braceway would have been the first to censure him. As he had expected, he found Withers and Mr. Fulton far ahead of train time.
Abrahamson talked rapidly, punctuating his phrases with quick gestures, enjoying the importance of his role. "Mr. Braceway," he explained smilingly to Greenleaf, "talked to me about the man with the beard talked more than you did, chief. You know Mr. Braceway how quick he is. He talked and asked me to try to remember where and when I had seen this Mr. Bristow.
Withers owned, and wire that description to the police of the principal towns between here and Washington and between here and Atlanta. We'll make the request, of course, that they watch the pawnshops and nab anybody who shows up with any of the Withers stuff?" "That's it! That's it as sure as you're born!" Braceway struck the arm of his chair and catapulted himself into a standing position.
No, he decided; the time for that would come after the grinding work in Washington. Bristow himself was far from being a sentimental man. If he had been in Braceway's place, he would have preferred to hear nothing about the girl and her emotions until after the completion of the work. "Are you packed up?" Braceway asked. "Ready to go?" "Almost." "Well, suppose we drift on down to the Brevord.
I've drifted through life fooling with real estate and writing now and then a little, a very little, poor fiction. Neither occupation would support me in Furmville; and I think I could make good as a sort of consulting detective and criminologist. There's money in it, isn't there?" "Yes; good money," Braceway replied without much enthusiasm.
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