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Updated: June 25, 2025
I presume I must tell you, though I confess I'm in doubt...." He hesitated, weighing candor in the balance with discretion. "But who are you for? Are you in George Calendar's pay?" "Heaven forfend!" piously. "My sole interest at the present moment is to unravel a most entrancing mystery " "Entitled 'Dorothy Calendar'! Of course. You've known her long?"
And Kirkwood did not believe himself a person of sufficient importance in Calendar's eyes, to make that worthy endure the discomforts of a'tween-decks imprisonment throughout the voyage, even to escape recognition.
Some, vanguards of that imminent day when the boarding-house should reign supreme, wore with shamefaced air placards of estate-agents, advertising their susceptibility to sale or lease. In the company of the latter was Number 9. The American noted the circumstance subconsciously, at a moment when Miss Calendar's hand, small as a child's, warm and compact in its white glove, lay in his own.
Of all the rides since the birth of time, Told in story or sung in rhyme, On Apuleius's Golden Ass, Or one-eyed Calendar's horse of brass, Witch astride of a human hack, Islam's prophet on Al-Borák, The strangest ride that ever was sped Was Ireson's out from Marblehead! Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart By the women of Marblehead!
Not quite so far had they distanced Calendar's trailing Nemesis of the four glaring eyes; the pursuers put forth a gallant effort to hold their place.
"Never fear, little one!" Calendar's laugh was nervously cheerful. "The Lord knows you're welcome." "Thank you 'most to death," responded Kirkwood politely. "Good-by and good-by to you, Stryker. 'Glad to have humored your desire to meet me soon again."
There followed two metallic clicks. Calendar's ravings were abrupted as if his tongue had been paralyzed. He fell back a pace, flabby jowls pale and shaking, ponderous jaw dropping on his breast, mouth wide and eyes crazed as he shook violently before him his thick fleshy wrists securely handcuffed.
But the porter's hand fell upon his shoulder and the giant bent low to bring his mouth close to the other's ear. Kirkwood heard indistinctly his own name followed by Calendar's, and the words: "Never fear. I'll point him out." "But the woman?" argued the detective, unconvinced, staring into the cab.
"Now see here, Calendar; this collection of truck that I was robbed of by this resurrected Joe Miller here, cost me upwards of a hundred and fifty. I'm going to sell it to you at a bargain say fifty dollars, two hundred and fifty francs." "The juice you are!" Calendar's eyes opened wide, partly in admiration. "D'you realize that this is next door to highway robbery, my young friend?"
A silence, indefinitely sustained, impressed itself upon the little audience, a breathless pause ended eventually by a sharp snap of Calendar's teeth. "Mmm!" grunted the adventurer in bewilderment. He began to pant. Abruptly his heavy hands delved into the contents of the bag, like the paws of a terrier digging in earth. To Kirkwood the air seemed temporarily thick with flying objects.
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