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"I wonder if the bullet Hastings dug out of the tree trunk will be found to fit this weapon?" "You miser-r-r-rable dog!" screamed Lemaire. "Thief! Liar!" "Oh, keep cool about it, do," urged Jack, smilingly. "What's this?" demanded Trotter, suddenly appearing on the scene. Packwood was just behind him.
Any of us are liable, but you'll be the shining mark of all to be picked out." "There can't be many more of that crowd left at large," laughed Jack, lightly. "I wonder why the Secret Service men don't arrest Lemaire and the Nadiboff young woman?" asked Mr. Pollard, the last to rejoin the little group. "Trotter and Packwood must have some good reasons of their own," Jack replied, thoughtfully.
Billy and I might never have played together as we did, if my brother-in-law had not taken his wife to San Francisco and left me in the care of Mr. and Mrs. Packwood. Their chief aim in life was to please their baby.
"A gentleman of my acquaintance lately went to buy some razors at Packwood's. Mrs. Packwood alone was visible. Upon the gentleman's complimenting her on the infinite variety of her husband's ingenious and poetical advertisements, she replied, 'La! sir, and do you think husband has time to write them there things his-self? Why, sir, we keeps a poet to do all that there work."
My side partner, Packwood, is now engaged in unraveling a cipher that was taken from her." "That's an impudent lie," asserted the Englishman, hotly. "No it isn't," laughed Mr. Trotter. "It's a Secret Service fact." "I'm going to go to Miss Peddensen, now, then," asserted Drummond.
Packwood admitted them. "Step right into the next room," advised Mr. Packwood. "You'll find some one there you know." A the submarine folks entered the room they saw Trotter seated at a table on which were writing materials. At the other side of the table standing very erect, and in a very respectful pose, was the Japanese, Kamanako.
Fortunately Baby Packwood had grown to be quite a frolicsome child. She was fond of me, and her bones had hardened so that there was no longer danger of my breaking them when I lifted her or held her on my lap. Her mother had also discovered that I was anxious to be helpful, pleased when given something to do, and proud when my work was praised.
Fifteen minutes later the Secret Service men returned. The jailer had pronounced the pair to be Gaston's callers of the day before. Moreover, the jailer had obligingly locked up the pair until Trotter and Packwood could obtain proper authority for him to hold them.
I think she cried all the way home. It was so hard to part from you. Mr. Packwood carried me into the house, and both he and his wife felt sorry for me. My head ached and the tears would come as often as any one looked at me. Mrs. Packwood wet a piece of brown paper, laid it on my forehead, and bade me lie on my bed until I should feel better. I could not eat or play, and even Mr.
"Oh, as you please, of course," smiled the one of the pair who had first spoken. "Probably I am at fault, though, in not introducing my companion and myself. My friend is Mr. Packwood; my name is Trotter. We are Secret Service men sent down here by the Secretary of the Navy, in answer to your dispatch." As Trotter spoke he threw back the lapel of his coat, displaying a badge.
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