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Updated: May 3, 2025
"You're locating him in a compromising situation, all right," Frank said. "But you said 'one of the men who visited the rooms that night. Who were the others?" "Wait a minute," said Nestor. "Let me tell you what else I found there. I have in my pocket a piece of paper, a margin cut from a legal document, showing the thumb and fingermarks of a withered right hand.
Crayme, she acted as every true woman will imagine that she herself would have done under similar circumstances, and this action made it not so easy as it might otherwise have been to see just where the pen and ink were, or to prevent the precious document, when completed, from being disfigured by peculiar blots which were neither fingermarks nor ink-spots, yet which in shape and size suggested both of these indications of unneatness.
"Say, to-morrow I'm going to take a good look at this rod I've been holding to; I'll bet it shows fingermarks." "What's the meaning of that rumpus out there?" demanded a stern voice. "Oh, dad we need you the worst way." "That you, Jerry? What in tarnation you up to anyhow?" "We're not up any longer we're glad to get back to earth." "Eh?" said Mr. Ring, perplexed, as he came up to them.
He fell back with an oath, a patch of fingermarks showing red on his white countenance. "That blow has killed Florimond de Condillac," he told her viciously. "He dies at noon to-morrow. Ponder it, my pretty." "I care not what you do so that you leave me," she answered defiantly, restraining by a brave effort the tears of angry distress that welled up from her stricken heart.
Of course it was argued on the other side that the blood-marks on her dress might have been caused by her kneeling down by her husband when she rushed out of her room; but there was the open door below, and the fact that the fingermarks in the staircase all pointed upward.
She didn't kill him!" "No, she didn't!" and Tibbetts appeared in the library doorway. "I did it myself." "That's right!" and Fibsy's eyes gleamed satisfaction; "she did! It's her fingermarks on the knife that stabbed old Schuyler. They're plain as print! Nobody thought of matching up those marks with Tibbetts's mitt! But I'll bet she did it to save Mrs. Schuyler's life!"
"And yesterday were dismissed," he continued easily, disregarding my astonishment. "Well, to-day you shall be reinstated and rewarded. Your business here, I believe, was to recover her Majesty's dog, and earn the reward?" I remembered that the wretch whose fingermarks were still on my throat might be within hearing, and I tried to utter a denial. He waved it aside politely. "Just so," he said.
Worry makes folks gray-headed." She scratched her head where three gray braids, about the length and thickness of a flapper's eyebrow, stuck out at odd angles. "I sho got plenty chancet to worry ifen I wants to," she mused, as she sipped water from a fruit-jar foul with fingermarks. "Relief folks got me on dey black list.
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