Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 5, 2025
Well, perhaps he could answer that and, if not quite to the satisfaction of the police, at least to the complete vindication of Mike Hagan. But he could not drive through towns and villages with a mask on his face; and there, ahead now, lights were beginning to show. And more than ever now, with what was before him, it was imperative that Mike Hagan should not recognise Larry the Bat.
Back once more in his office in a building on Forty-second Street, Mr. Hagan cut the end from a cigar and gazed out across the public library and the park at its back. The frosted glass of his hall door bore the legend, "The Searchlight Investigation Bureau. Private."
And the shot, fired at random, the interior of the room hidden from the officers outside by the drawn shades, found its mark and Connie Myers, a bullet in his brain, pitched forward, dead, upon the floor. "QUICK!" Jimmie Dale flung at Hagan. "Get that letter out of his hand!" He jumped for the lamp on the floor, extinguished it, and turned again toward Hagan.
Hagan may be here any moment. Wouldn't have him see you for anything. Don't want him to know I've spoken to a soul since. That's right! Dig! You'll have to hurry." Starbright was somewhat bewildered, but he followed Dade's directions and hastened from the Iroquois. A few moments later Cavendale returned and announced that "Mr. Harrigan" would be right down.
I knew all his plans, his hopes, his ambitions everything everything that he knew and felt." "Strange he never spoke to me of you," muttered Hagan. "Not strange, for he was not given to talking freely to any one but me. And now he is dead! But I am here to avenge him.
A few minutes later, through the closed door, Ellen and I heard a sudden, wailing cry. Poor Braddish, it seems, in one of his ungovernable tempers had shot a man to death, and fled away no one knew whither. The man killed was named Hagan. He was a red-faced, hard-drinking brute, not without sharp wits and a following or better, a heeling.
The only outsiders who saw the shooting were friends of Hagan's; there was bad blood between us. They'd sworn to do for me. And they would. I shot Hagan with his own gun. He pulled it on me, and I turned it into him, by the greatest piece of quickness and good luck that ever I had. And somehow somehow I couldn't see myself swinging for that, or going to prison for life.
Hagan was rocking on his knees, beads of sweat were starting out on his forehead. "You wouldn't plant a man like that!" he cried brokenly. "You wouldn't do it, would you? My God you wouldn't do that!" Jimmie Dale's face under his mask was white and rigid. There was something primal, elemental in the savagery that was sweeping upon him.
Isn't she good?" cries Hal, never, fortunately, waiting for a reply to these ardent queries. "And to think that I was nearly marrying Maria once! Oh, mercy, what an escape I had!" he added. "Hagan prays for the King, every morning and night, at Castlewood, but they bolt the doors, and nobody hears.
He swore at the driver for his carelessness, but his profanity ended abruptly when the door of the cab swung open and he saw a pair of midnight eyes looking at him. "By all the saints," gasped Bantry Hagan, actually staggering, "it is the dead alive again!" The man in the cab lifted a hand and motioned to him. In a low, musical voice, he said: "Señor Hagan, get in quickly. Come."
Word Of The Day
Others Looking