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Updated: June 17, 2025
Why in tarnation didn't you strike plump for here instead of rubbin' yourself down the whole coast of South Ameriky?" "Bucky, you don't understand the situation properly," objected Frawley, without varying the level tone of his voice. "Supposing it had been a bloomin' corporation had sent me ? that's what I'd have done. But it's the government this time Her Majesty's government!
In the train the thermometer stood at 116°. The heat made of everything a solitude. Frawley, lifeless, stifling, and numbed, glued himself to the air-holes with eyes fastened on the horizon, while the train sped across the naked, singeing back of the plains like the welt that springs to meet the fall of the lash.
"I'm not guessing," said Frawley. "What do you say to dining on me?" said Greenfield with a malicious smile. "I owe you that. I clipped your vacation pretty short. Besides guess you know it yourself you can't touch me here. Why not talk things over frankly? Say, Bub, shall it be on me?" "I'm willing." A waiter sidled up and took the order that Greenfield gave without hesitation.
This time Greenfield did not laugh, but his hand closed convulsively over the butt, and he gave a savage sigh of delight. His limbs contracted violently, his head bore heavily on the shoulder of Frawley, who heard him whisper again: "A bug a little " Then he stopped and appeared to listen. Outside, the evening was soft and stirring.
Without a pause, Frawley traced him next into the Balkans, through Bulgaria, Roumania, amid massacre and revolution to Budapest, back to Odessa, and across the back of Russia by Moscow and Riga to Stockholm. A year had elapsed.
"We shake, of course," said Greenfield, holding out his hand. "Why not? Sit down." The fugitive slid into a chair and hung his arms over the back, asking immediately: "What took you so long? You're after me, of course?" "Am I?" Frawley answered, looking at him steadily. Greenfield, with a twitch of his shoulders, returned to his question: "What took you so long? Didn't you guess I'd come direct?"
It's a little personal. I doubt, sir, if I bring him back alive." "Inspector Frawley," said the new Secretary, "I hope I have sufficiently impressed upon you the importance of your mission." Frawley stared at his chief in surprise. "I'm to stick to him until I get him," he said in wonder; "that's all, isn't it, sir?" The Secretary, annoyed by his lack of imagination, essayed a final phrase.
And to have it end like this to have a bug a miserable, squashy bug beat you after all!" For a long moment there was no sound, while Greenfield lay, twisting, his head averted, buried in the leaves. "It's not right, Bucky," said Frawley at last, with an effort at sympathy. "It oughtn't to have ended this way." "It was worth it!" Greenfield cried. "Three years!
"Remember what I tell you," said Greenfield, looking over his glass, "there's going to be something to live for." "I say, Bucky," said Frawley with a lazy interest, "would they serve you five-o'clock tea here, I wonder?" Greenfield, drawing back, laughed a superior laugh. "Bub, I'm sorry for you 'pon my word I am." "How so, Bucky?"
Frawley straightened in his saddle, stretched the stiffness out of his limbs, patted his mule solicitously, glanced at the guide, and stopped in perplexity at the mute, reverential attitude. "What's he starin' at now?" he muttered in as then, with a glance at his watch, he added anxiously, "I say, Sammy, when do we get a bit to eat?" In Valparaiso he readily found the track of Greenfield.
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