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Updated: June 6, 2025


Girls had come, and girls had gone, blondes, ex-blondes, brunettes, ex-brunettes, near-blondes, near-brunettes; they had come buoyant, full of hope and life, tempted by the lavish salary which Mr Meggs had found himself after a while compelled to pay; and they had dropped off, one after another, like exhausted bivalves, unable to endure the crushing boredom of life in the village which had given Mr Meggs to the world.

And then, as Hoppy Meggs closed down the lid: "I didn't bring you here to offer any advice; but as I don't want you to labour under the impression that, not having any brains of your own, there aren't, therefore, any brains at all to stand between you and the police, I'll tell you.

Suddenly he stiffened and held the glasses fixed. "Look!" he cried. "Off there to the northwards cliffs!" "Cliffs? Aye, a headland," confirmed the skipper. "Put about for it immediately," directed Lord James. "If they were cast up here, they'd not have lingered in these vile bogs would have made for the high ground." Meggs nodded, and called the order to the steersman.

"Hello!" he said gruffly. "What's wanted?" A voice responded in feverish excitement: "Say, dat youse, Joe? Dis is Hoppy Meggs. Say, de fly cops has got tipped off; dey're on de way down to yer place now. Youse want to beat it on de jump!" "Wait a minute!" said Jimmie Dale. He passed the instrument over to Hunchback Joe. "It's for you," he said, with a queer smile.

It had not been without considerable thought that Mr Meggs had decided upon the method of his suicide. The knife, the pistol, the rope they had all presented their charms to him. He had further examined the merits of drowning and of leaping to destruction from a height. There were flaws in each. Either they were painful, or else they were messy.

Napoleon had them, and look at him. He would be blowed if he committed suicide. With the fire of a new resolve lighting up his eyes, he turned to seize the six letters and rifle them of their contents. They were gone. It took Mr Meggs perhaps thirty seconds to recollect where they had gone to, and then it all came back to him.

Sentiment succeeded whimsicality. His old friends of the office those were the men to benefit. What good fellows they had been! Some were dead, but he still kept intermittently in touch with half a dozen of them. And an important point he knew their present addresses. This point was important, because Mr Meggs had decided not to leave a will, but to send the money direct to the beneficiaries.

'Save me! said Miss Pillenger. Mr Meggs pointed speechlessly to the letters, which she still grasped in her right hand. He had taken practically no exercise for twenty years, and the pace had told upon him. Constable Gooch, guardian of the town's welfare, tightened his hold on Mr Meggs's arm, and desired explanations. 'He he was going to murder me, said Miss Pillenger.

"Get that opened. Hurry up! And see that you don't leave any scratches on it, or you understand!" He leaned forward, leering with sudden savagery at his companion. Hoppy Meggs moved forward, dropped on his knees in front of the trunk, examined the lock for an instant and grunted in contempt. "Aw, it's a cinch! Say, I could do it wid a hairpin!" he grinned and a moment later threw back the lid.

Here was evidence that not all aboard the wrecked or foundered Impala had been lost. "Meggs," he cried, "you're the one and only skipper! It must be their signal it is their signal! But which of them? who went under and who escaped! Miss Genevieve? Tom?" "This Mr. Blake?" ventured Meggs. "I take it, he's some relation to your lordship." "No; chum American engineer. Gad! if he went down!

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