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Updated: May 10, 2025
Coburn's flow of raging speech stopped short. He stared. He saw other fallen soldiers. Dozens of them. In coma-like slumber, the soldiers who had come to loot and murder lay like straws upon the ground. If they had been dead it would have been more believable. At least there are ways to kill men. But this ... Dillon parted the group of villagers about him and came toward Coburn and Janice.
At the time she made it, Miss Coburn's statement about the shell-shock had seemed entirely to account for the action of Henri, the driver. But now Merriman was not so sure. The more he thought over the affair, the more certain he felt that he had not made a mistake about the number plate, and the more likely it appeared that the driver had guessed what he, Merriman, had noticed, and resented it.
He went into the one coffee-shop in Salonika which served drinkable tea. It was dark and dingy inside, though the tablecloths were spotless. He went in, and there was Dillon. Coburn's flesh crawled. If the figure sitting there with the London Times and a cup of tea before him were actually a monster from another planet ... But Dillon read comfortably, and sipped his tea.
His English was so mangled and obscure that Coburn wondered cynically if whoever listened to their tapped telephone could understand him. But, said the General in high good humor, he was playing a good joke. He had hunted up Helena, who was Coburn's secretary, and he had also invited Dillon to pay a visit to some charming people he knew. It would be a great joke to see Dillon's face.
An incompletely erased address in a pocket diary belonging to Beamish led Willis to a small shop on the south side of London, where he discovered an assistant who had sold a square of black serge to two men, about the time of Coburn's murder.
Miss Shirley told me last fall she got her first inspiration for buyin' a quarter of land with nothin' and faith, and makin' it pay for itself, out of one of Coburn's Agricultural Reports. I reckon if a book like that could inspire a woman, they's plenty in a mornin' like this to inspire old Satan to a more uprighteous line of goods than he generally carries. I never see the country look better.
It was so quick I half thought I was mistaken. But I know I wasn't." "I saw fear on his face when he recognized you that same evening," Hilliard replied. "We needn't blink at it, Merriman. Whether willingly or unwillingly, Mr. Coburn's in the thing. That's as certain as that we're here." "But what is it? Have you any theory?" "No, not really.
He ate a few sandwiches, then lighting his pipe, lay down on the floor and smoked contentedly. His case at last was beginning to prosper. The finding of Coburn's murderer was of course an event of outstanding importance, and now the discovery of the telephone was not only valuable for its own sake, but was likely to bring in a rich harvest of information from the messages he hoped to intercept.
It did not hurt Coburn's skin, but it ruffled his dignity. In this case it was out of the question to pommel the blackguard, for he had swiftly reloaded his gun. So Jack ran off with the still, carried it home, sought out our magistrate, Brooks, and forthwith swore out a warrant. Brooks did not fuss over any law books.
The two points on which that suspicion had been founded the absence of return cargoes and the locality of the French end of the enterprise were not, he now saw, really suspicious at all. Mr. Coburn's remark met the first of these points, and showed that he was perfectly alive to the handicap of a oneway traffic.
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