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Updated: May 19, 2025
I made an early getaway from my office on Friday afternoon, met my wife at the ferry, and in due course, but by no means with comfort, managed to board the train and secure our seats in the parlor car before it started. We reached our destination at about half-past four and were met by a footman in livery, who piloted us to a limousine driven by a French chauffeur. We were the only arrivals.
"Oh, well, we ain't his enemies, though he ain't very well known in the Cedar Mountain country. What might he be like, pardner?" "Hasn't he lived up here long?" asked one of the men, busy with some bacon over a fire. "They say not." "He's a heavy-set fellow, with reddish hair; not so tall as you, I reckon, and some heavier. Was wearing chaps and gauntlets when he made his getaway.
There was but one conclusion he could arrive at. The Chinaman was playing a game of his own, and he had taken this unusual way of advising Keith to make a getaway while the going was good. It was evident that his intention had been to avoid the possibility of a personal discussion of the situation. That, at least, was Keith's first impression. He turned to examine the window.
"You don't say! Thanks for that tip about dressing up. I may explain," Linder continued, turning to Murdoch, "there was a time when I might have been an also-ran in the race for Y.D.'s daughter, only Transley beat me on the getaway." "You!" Grant exclaimed, incredulously. "You, too!" Linder returned, a great light dawning. "Well, Mr.
The world was not a good place; it was a grim, pitiless place, and a man was dying, at their very feet. "But what about the rest oh the bunch?" croaked Happy Jack, true to his misanthropic nature, but exceeding husky as to voice. "They'll likely tell " The dying man shook his head eagerly. "They won't; they're both dead. One was killed last night. The other when we first tried to make a getaway.
Those documents and that blackjack are here in this place, and the Secret Service men know where to find them." Jimmie Dale's watch was in his hand. "It's five minutes to twelve. They'll be here at midnight. I've got to make my getaway before they come. I need two minutes for that, including locking you in so that you can't get away. That leaves you three minutes to make up your mind.
"Whadda you mean?" "Diamonds on your twenty a week! It can't be done." His gaze lit up with the pointiness. "I tell you, Marylin, I can promise you headlights!" "How?" "Never you bother your little head how; O.K., though." "How, Getaway?" "Oh clean if that's what's worrying you. Clean-cut." "It is worrying me." "Saw one on a little Jane yesterday out to Belmont race track.
Irwin told the story of the strategy that had changed him from jailer to prisoner and of the way he had later freed himself from the rope that bound him. Healy unloaded his sentiments with an emphasis that did the subject justice. Nevertheless he could not see that their plans were seriously affected. "It's a leetle premature, but his getaway doesn't cut any ice.
Green. Tell him to have it run forward and clear of the awning in front of the restaurant slip him this other dollar, now, and impress on him that I want that car about twenty-five feet to the right of the door as you go out." The waiter nodded, and leered slyly. "All right, sir I get ye, Mr. Green. It's a quick getaway, is that it?"
"Maybe you're telling the truth, at that," she announced suddenly, eyes coldly unprepossessed. "You sound fishy as all-hell, and God knows you're the sickest-looking cop I ever laid eyes on; but there are less unlikely things than that a second-story man should try this route for his getaway.... Well!" she demanded urgently "what're you standing there for, like a stone man?"
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