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Updated: June 5, 2025
Gilmore called Harbison's attention to this. "I guess the job was done with that," he said. "Possibly," agreed Harbison. Gilmore picked up the sledge and examined it narrowly. "Yes, you can see, there is blood on it." He handed it to Harbison, who stepped under the nearest lamp with the clumsy weapon in his hand.
Harbison's stolen watch slip out of my girdle, slide greasily across my lap, and clatter to the floor. Flannigan stooped, but luckily it had gone under the table. To have had it picked up, to have had to explain how I got it, to see them try to ignore my picture pasted in it oh, it was impossible! I put my foot over it. "Drop something?" Dallas asked perfunctorily, rising.
"I found it just where the paper said the board was thrown out, and it is from Mr. Harbison's overcoat, without a doubt." Of course I should not have been surprised. A man who would kiss a woman on a dark staircase a woman he had known only two days was capable of anything. "Kit has only been a little keener than the rest of us," Lollie said. "She found him out yesterday."
It was scarcely half an hour since Shrimplin had fallen speechless into Colonel Harbison's arms, yet fully two hundred men had gathered in that long room or were struggling about the door to gain admittance to it. At a suggestion from Harbison, the gambler, followed by Joe, elbowed his way to the front door, which in spite of the protest of those outside, he closed and locked.
But Max spied one of the reporters setting up a flash light as we stood, undecided, at the top of the steps, and after that there was nothing to do but retreat. We backed down slowly, to show them we were not afraid. And when we were all in the kitchen again, and had turned on the lights and Bella was crying with her head against Mr. Harbison's arm, Dal said cheerfully,
The coroner fidgeted in his seat; dismay and unspeakable surprise were plainly stamped on Colonel Harbison's face; Moxlow appeared quite nonplussed by what his partner had last said. "I was aware that he contemplated this trip West," said Langham quickly. "He had asked me to dispose of the contents of his rooms when he should be gone." "Did he tell you where he was going, Marshall?" asked Moxlow.
We had worked back to the den now, and I stood in front of the fireplace and let the storm beat around me, and tried to look perfectly cold and indifferent, and not to see Mr. Harbison's shocked face. No wonder he thought them a lot of savages, browbeating their hostess the way they did.
A night or two later, as the judge, who had spent the evening at Colonel Harbison's, came to his own gate, he saw a slouching figure detach itself from the shadows near his front door and advance to meet him midway of the graveled path that led to the street. It was Joe Montgomery. "Well, my man!" said the judge, with some little show of sternness. "I suppose you received my message?"
Harbison's overcoat today lying in a heap in one of the maids' rooms, and it was covered with brick dust all over the front. A button had even been torn off." "Pooh!" Anne said, when she had recovered herself a little. "There isn't any reason, as far as that goes, why Flannigan shouldn't have worn Tom's overcoat, or any of the others." "Flannigan!" Leila said loftily.
Gilmore leaned against the counter and smoked imperturbably. Joe Montgomery, with his great slouching shoulders arched, and his grimy hands buried deep in his trousers pockets, stared at the dead man in stolid wonder. Colonel Harbison's glance sought the same object but with a sensitive shrinking as from an ugly brutal thing.
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