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Updated: May 21, 2025
"I took him downtown and bought him some clothes, and then took him to a barber shop, and afterward to the hotel. I registered him as my valet. I call him Murk. I can prove by him that I could not have killed Rufus Shepley about eleven o'clock, because I was in Murk's company at that time." "What time did you get back to your hotel with him?" "It was a few minutes of midnight.
One of the men went back into the adjoining room, and the other remained standing before Murk, sneering at him, his hands opening and closing as if he would take Murk's throat in them and choke the life out of Sidney Prale's valet and comrade in arms. Then the man who had left the room returned, and there was another with him. Murk looked at this stranger with sudden interest.
Murk picked them up and put them on, and then he followed at Prale's heels until they were on the street and beneath the nearest light. There they stopped and looked each other over. Murk was short, but he was built for strength. Prale could tell at a glance that the man, even poorly nourished as he was, had muscles that could be depended on. Prale liked the look around Murk's eyes, too.
And now we'll have in that new valet of yours." There was a snarl on Murk's face as he came into the room and sat down in the chair at the end of the desk. Murk did not like policemen and detectives, and did not care whether they knew of his dislike. He flashed a glance at Sidney Prale and then faced the captain. "Well, what is it?" he asked. "Tell us where and how you met Mr.
Prale, ain't there anybody but cops in this town?" Murk asked. "Jim is a private cop, and he has a job now to get me out of this scrape," said Prale. "He's a friend of mine, I said." "I guess that makes it different," was Murk's only comment. "Oh, we'll get along all right," Farland put in. "I'm going to need you in my business, Murk.
Gradually the pain ceased, Murk's senses cleared and he became aware of what was going on around him. He could hear whispered voices, but could not distinguish words and sentences; neither could he tell whether the voices were those of men or women. Finally Murk opened his eyes. He found that he was in a small room furnished in quite an ordinary manner. He was stretched on an old-fashioned sofa.
Murk went around the suite, straightening things and trying to be of service. He looked at Sidney Prale often; it was plain to be seen that Prale was Murk's kind of man. There came a knock at the door. "See who it is, Murk," Sidney Prale said. He did not even look up from the paper he was reading. He supposed it was some hotel employee. Murk stalked across to the door and threw it open.
Prale was forced to walk slower, and now and then he stopped to look in at a shop window. Once in a while he stepped to the curb and glanced behind. But if there was a "shadow" Prale did not see him. He did see Murk, however, and he smiled at Murk's methods.
Ten minutes later, Sidney Prale was walking down the street, and the faithful Murk was trailing in his wake, watching carefully. That walk lasted for an hour. Then they returned to the hotel and Prale ordered an early dinner. He did not say what he had decided to do, despite Murk's hints that he should state his plans.
And out of the mouth of that dark passageway came a blow that caused Murk to groan once and topple forward. Hands gripped his unconscious body and drew him back into the darkness. The next thing that impressed itself upon Murk's consciousness was the fact that he had a terrific pain in the back of his head. Many times during his career Murk had experienced similar pains.
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