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Updated: June 14, 2025
And curiously, I felt grateful to Eve for it. I got up and went after Napier. I found him in Bullard's little cubbyhole of a cabin. He must have chased Grundy off, and now he was just drawing a hypo out of the cook's arm. "It'll take the pain away," he was saying softly. "And I'll see that he doesn't hit you again. You'll be all right, now. And in the morning, I'll come and listen to you.
Suddenly the frozen quiet of the Commander's face was flushed red with rage. "Give me that insignia!" he demanded, and pointed to the triple star on Chet Bullard's breast. "Your commission is revoked!" To the last breathless spectator in the farthest end of the great hall the white pallor of Chet Bullard's face must have been apparent.
Bullard's expression was so ugly then that the pretender wavered. "Where is the Green Box? Answer!" "Give me the four hundred, and I'll take you to it." "Take me to it? I think not!" "Oh, Mr. Bullard, surely you don't distrust me." Bullard appeared to reflect, and said harshly: "One more chance.
Into his side coat pocket he slipped the revolver that had snuffed out the late and unsavory Rodney Bullard's light of life, and from his trousers pocket he slowly drew forth his supply of ready money. He had three silver dollars, one quarter, one dime, and a nickel three-forty in all. Contemplating the disks of metal in the palm of his hand, he did a quick sum in mental arithmetic.
He learned that Bullard's office was on the fourth of the nine floors; at the same time he memorised the name of a firm on the fifth floor. Then he ascended leisurely. Care-takers and cleaners were about, but apparently they had finished their tasks above the fourth floor. He spoke to one of them, an elderly man. "Can you tell me if Mr. Stern of Stern & Lynoch has returned?" "No, sir.
I do not waste a good clean card on you, but I will give you satisfaction when you like after you come out of the jail!" Alan had grabbed Bullard's right wrist. "Teddy, take the madman away," he cried, and Teddy removed Guidet, who went obediently, but blowing like a porpoise, to a seat by the wall. Lancaster, looking ill, had sunk into an easy-chair by the fire.
The colonel, after careful inquiry, engaged to take Judge Bullard's place, one Albert Caxton, a member of a good old family, a young man, and a capable lawyer, who had no ascertainable connection with Fetters, and who, in common with a small fraction of the best people, regarded Fetters with distrust, and ascribed his wealth to usury and to what, in more recent years, has come to be known as "graft."
Over by the wall a man on a raised dais began to tune an ancient fiddle. Two more women came in from somewhere at the back, a big blooming girl by the name of Sadie, and a small red-head, tragically faded, with soft brown eyes that should never have looked upon Bullard's.
A middle-aged man in black, with clean shaven ascetic face, and hair the colour of rust, and of remarkably wiry bodily appearance stood at attention. There was something in Christopher's sad smile that forbade further words, and the visitors departed. Lancaster's countenance working, Bullard's a mask. The door was shut noiselessly. Christopher's hand fell clenched on the green box.
"There was no light in your window when the man fell. At the inquest you said you had just switched on the lights." Bullard's clenched fists relaxed; his face became moist and shiny. "Do you want to hear any more?" said Teddy. "One minute left." Bullard writhed. "Suppose I haven't got the money," he said at last. "You can find it." "And what guarantees do you give in return?"
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