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Updated: May 26, 2025
Over ten years before he had killed in a duel Button Gwinnett, a signer of the Declaration of Independence. Gwinnett was the challenger and McIntosh was badly wounded in the duel, but the affair caused a feud that long disturbed Georgia politics, and through the agency of the Senate it was able to reach and annoy the President of the United States.
Gwinnett yelled at Walters, as soon as he saw him. "For God's sake, Carl," the woman begged. "Don't make things any worse than they are. Keep quiet!" "All right, Gwinnett," McKenna said. "We're arresting you: receiving stolen goods, and accessory to larceny. We have a search warrant. Want to see it?" "So you have a search warrant," Gwinnett said.
He was an Englishman by birth, and, upon the breaking out of the war, hesitated for some time as to the course he should pursue. This was a time when all who hesitated were suspected, and Gwinnett shared the common fate.
Outlawed and under sentence, I knew that you could never return, in any safety or security, whatever might be your disguise, to the society which had driven you out and I'm sure that your chance would be but a bad one were you to seek a return to the old practice at Gwinnett courthouse. Any attempt there to argue a fellow out of the halter would be only to argue yourself into it."
"There's a commission-dealer named Carl Gwinnett, who wants to handle the collection for us, for twenty per cent. I'm told that that isn't an unusually exorbitant commission, but I'm not exactly crazy about the idea." "You shouldn't be, if you want your money in a hurry," Rand told her. "He'd take at least five years to get everything sold.
Jerking out the changeling .38-special, he whirled and ran around the left side of the house, arriving at the rear in time to see Gwinnett standing on a boardwalk between the house and the stable-garage behind, with his hands raised. There was a fresh bullet-scar on the boardwalk at his feet. Ritter was covering him from the corner of the house with the .380 Beretta.
We're going, now, to pick up Gwinnett and the pistols." "I'm glad you found the pistols," she told him. "But what're we going to do, over the week-end, for a butler...." Rand snapped his fingers. "Dammit, I never thought of that!" He allowed his brow to furrow with thought. "I won't promise anything, but I may be able to dig up somebody for you, for a day or so.
"You stop that, or you'll spend a night in jail yourself." She jerked her arm loose from his grasp and flung out of the library. As she went out, Gladys entered; Rand, who had been bringing up in the rear, stepped down from the stairway. "He confessed," he said softly. "We had to bluff it out of him, but he came across. Sold the pistols to Carl Gwinnett.
"So go ahead and search; if you don't find anything, you'll plant something. I want to call my lawyer." "That's your right," McKenna told him. "Aarvo, take him to a phone; let him call the White House if he wants to." He turned to Walters. "Now, where would he have this stuff stashed?" "In the garret, sir. I know the way." As Kavaalen accompanied Gwinnett to the phone, Walters started upstairs.
And finally, there was a distinct possibility that the swift and dramatic justice that had overtaken Walters and Gwinnett at Rand's hands was having a sobering effect upon somebody at that table. Dunmore, Nelda, Varcek, Geraldine and Gladys had been intending to go to a party that evening, but at the last minute Gladys had pleaded indisposition and telephoned regrets.
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