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Updated: June 5, 2025
Blount had scarcely formulated the condition when the office-door winged noiselessly, and the man himself, hollow-eyed and haggard, stumbled in. As once before, Blount got up and went to shut the door and lock it. When he came back, Gryson had taken his seat in a chair at the desk-end, where the light from the shaded working-lamp fell upon his sinister face.
"He has been put out of the way for a purpose, and the purpose is to keep me from finding out something that Gryson wants to tell me. That was the animus of the scheme to send me on a fool's errand to Lewiston. After you left me last night I found out that Gryson had been worrying Collins the day before; had been in the office a number of times and was sweatingly anxious about something."
In the office corridor he waited until the car had dropped out of sight; waited still longer to give the drowsy night-boy time to settle himself on his stool and go to sleep. Then he went swiftly to the door of the private room and unlocked it. Gryson was ready, and even in the dim light of the corridor Blount could see that he was white-faced and trembling.
The message had not reached him; and its suppression was doubtless another move in the subtle game. "You say you couldn't find out what Gryson wanted?" he pressed. "He he seemed to be all torn up about something; couldn't say three words without putting a cuss word in with them. The most I could get out of him was that somebody was trying to double-cross him."
I said to myself that I would find another weapon, even if I should have to take a leaf out of your own book, dad, to do it. I took the leaf, and I have the weapon. You drove Gryson away, but you made one small miscalculation. You didn't believe that his desire for revenge would be stronger than his fear of the gallows." Again the older man nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, son; I know.
Snatching Gryson out of his chair, he thrust him silently through the half-open door of the work-room, and a moment later he was answering the rap at the corridor entrance, opening the door and calmly facing the two policemen on the threshold. "Well?" he said brusquely. One of the men touched his helmet. "We're looking for a felly that ducked in below a couple of hours ago, Mr. Blount.
The master mechanic went away silenced, but by no means convinced; and a week later Gryson, who in appearance was a typical tough, and who in reality was a post-graduate of the hard school of violence and ruffianage obtaining in the lawless mining-camps of the Carnadine Hills, sauntered into Blount's office with his cigar at the belligerent angle and an insolent taunt in his mouth.
"So I did, and so I am," she asserted, coming to sit in the chair last occupied by one Thomas Gryson. "And the others?" he queried. "They have just left; gone on ahead in the touring-car. I was deputed to bring you." "But I told you this morning that I couldn't go, and I can't!" he protested. She looked him squarely in the eye. "Evan, you don't dare tell me why you can't!" "Business," he pleaded.
Honoria's fine eyes became reflective. "Richard," she said softly, "I'd give anything in the world if I could know that Evan still feels that way about Thomas Gryson." "Then you know the plug-ugly, do you?" said Gantry. "I know of him. He is a criminal and a dangerous man." "Well, he is out of it, I guess; he must be, if his own running-mates can't find him." "Isn't Mr.
For when he went back to the hotel at the luncheon-hour he brought little with him save a stench in his nostrils and a slightly increased fund of mystification. Gryson had disappeared as completely as if the earth had opened and swallowed him. And Blount knew the disappearance was real, because the ward-heeler's own henchmen were searching for him.
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