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Updated: June 17, 2025
"Bucky well, now, that is odd!" said Frawley musingly. He rose and took a step to the desk. "Very odd." Mechanically he saw the straggling papers on the top and arranged them into orderly piles. "Well, he can't say I didn't warn him!" "What!" broke in the Secretary in quick astonishment, "you know the fellow?" "Indeed, yes, sir," said Frawley, with a nod. "We know most of the crooks in the States.
We're good friends, too so long as they stay over the line. It's useful, you know. So I'm to go after Bucky?" The Secretary, judging the moment had arrived to be impressive, said solemnly: "Inspector Frawley, if you have to stick to it until he dies of old age, you're never to let up until you get Bucky Greenfield!
But I swear even he couldn't have done it if the desert hadn't put me out of business first! No, by God! I'm not downed so easy as that!" Frawley, in a lame attempt to show his sympathy, went closer to the dying man: "I say, Bucky." "Shout away." "Wouldn't you like to go out, standing, on your feet with your boots on?" Greenfield laughed, a contented laugh.
"Not at all take the two o'clock good day, good day!" Inspector Frawley, sorely puzzled, shifted his balance, opened his mouth, then with a bob of his head answered hastily: "A good day, sir!" Sam Greenfield, known as "Bucky," age about 42, height about 5 feet 10 inches, weight between 145 and 150.
Frawley, with a quick motion, covered him with his revolver, crying: "Hands up. It's me, Bucky, and I've got you now!" "Frawley!" "That's it, Bucky Hands up!" Greenfield, without obeying, stared at him wildly. "God, it is Frawley!" he cried, and fell back in a heap. Inspector Frawley, advancing a step, repeated his command with no uncertain ring: "Hands up! Quick!"
Frawley placed the body back on the bed of leaves, listened a moment, and rose satisfied. He threw a blanket over the face, picked up the revolver, searched a moment for his hat, and went out to arrange with the Mexican for the night. In a moment he returned and took a seat in the corner, and began carefully to jot down the details on a piece of paper.
For a month all traces disappeared in the veldt, until by chance, rather than by his own merits, Frawley found the trail anew in Madagascar, whither Greenfield had come after a desperate attempt to bury his trail on the immense plains of Southern Africa. From Madagascar, Frawley followed him to Aden in Arabia and by steamer to Melbourne.
Inspector Frawley heard with approval and consulted his watch. "There's an express for New York leaves at noon," he said reflectively then, with a glance at the clock, "thirty-five minutes; I can make that, sir." "Good, very good." "If I might suggest, sir if the Inspector who has had the case in hand could go a short distance with me?" "Inspector Keech shall join you at the station."
Frawley watched him go, then with a sigh of relief turned his glance to the black revolving form in the air at least that remained to break the horror of the solitude. Then he lost consciousness. The beat of wings across his face aroused him with a start and a cry of agony.
Four months, five months behind, Frawley continued the tireless pursuit. From Stockholm the chase led to Copenhagen, to Christiansand, down the North Sea to Rotterdam. From thence Greenfield had rushed by rail to Lisbon and taken steamer to Africa, touching at Gibraltar, Portuguese and French Guinea, Sierra Leone, and proceeding thence into the Congo.
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