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Updated: September 11, 2025
He had partly adjusted his mind to the quiet contemplation of Mr MacGinnis and friends when he was called upon to face this fresh disaster. And he had a cold in the head, which unmans the stoutest. Napoleon would have won Waterloo if Wellington had had a cold in the head. 'Augustus Beckford caddot be fou'd? he echoed feebly. 'They must have run away together, said Glossop.
'Buck MacGinnis and Smooth Sam Fisher have come after you. They are outside now. Don't be frightened. He snorted derisively. 'Who's frightened? I guess they won't hurt me. How do you know it's them? 'They have just been here. The man who called himself White, the butler, was really Sam Fisher. He has been waiting an opportunity to get you all the term. 'White!
'Can'tja see him? The voice was not Buck's. It was Buck who answered. And when I realized that this man in front of me, within easy reach, on whose back I was shortly about to spring, and whose neck I proposed, under Providence, to twist into the shape of a corkscrew, was no mere underling, but Mr MacGinnis himself, I was filled with a joy which I found it hard to contain in silence.
'He's a wonder! he observed. 'Can you beat it? Taking you for Smooth Sam! 'He said he had never seen Smooth Sam. Have you? 'Lord, yes. 'Does he look like me? 'Not a bit. 'Do you think he's over here in England? 'Sam? I know he is. 'Then Buck MacGinnis was right? 'Dead right, as far as Sam being on the trail goes. Sam's after the Nugget to get him this time.
White, the butler, looking singularly unlike a detective which, I suppose, is how a detective wants to look was taking the air on the football field when I left the house next morning for a before-breakfast stroll. The sight of him filled me with a desire for first-hand information on the subject of the man Mr MacGinnis supposed me to be and also of Mr MacGinnis himself.
I connected with Mr MacGinnis in the region of the waist, and the howl he gave as we crashed to the ground was music to my ears. But how true is the old Roman saying, 'Surgit amari aliquid'. Our pleasures are never perfect. There is always something. In the programme which I had hastily mapped out, the upsetting of Mr MacGinnis was but a small item, a mere preliminary.
I don't give a flip for Buck MacGinnis. 'I wish I had your cheery disposition! To me Buck MacGinnis seems a pretty important citizen. I wonder what he meant by "fix"? White, however, declined to leave the subject of Buck's more gifted rival. 'Sam's a college man, you know. That gives him a pull. He has brains, and can use them. 'That was one of the points on which Buck MacGinnis reproached me.
'I met a gentleman of the name of Buck MacGinnis he was our visitor that night, by the way and he was full of Sam. Do you know him? 'Buck? 'Either of them. 'Well, I've never seen Buck, but I know all about him. There's pepper to Buck. 'So I should imagine. And Sam? 'You may take it from me that there's more pepper to Sam's little finger than there is to Buck's whole body.
Me, the chauffeur, and my friend MacGinnis. The possibility, indeed the probability, of Sam seeking out Buck and forming an alliance had occurred to me, and I was prepared for it. I shifted my grip on the automatic pistol in my hand. 'Mr Fisher. 'Hello! 'Ask your friend MacGinnis to be good enough to step into the light of that lamp and drop his gun. There was a muttered conversation.
If truth-telling has become a habit, one gets slowly off the mark when the moment arrives for the prudent lie. Quite against my will, I hesitated. Observant Mr MacGinnis perceived my hesitation and expectorated triumphantly. 'Ah ghee! he remarked. And then with a sudden return to ferocity, 'All right, you Sam, you wait! We'll fix you, and fix you good! See? Dat goes.
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