Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 16, 2025
It was Prale's intention to make an attempt to meet Kate Gilbert. Murk hurried around getting his coat and hat and gloves and stick. "Fool idea!" Prale told himself. "Kate Gilbert has given me the cold shoulder already, and she certainly will do it now, since I stand accused of murder. Not a chance in the world of getting better acquainted with her now." "What do you want me to do, boss?"
I just want to show you now that Prale's story about meeting this man Murk was a true tale. This clothing merchant is ready to say now that Prale and Murk were in his place last night about half past ten, and that Murk got his clothes there. And this barber is ready to swear that Prale and Murk arrived at his shop about a quarter of eleven or eleven, and did not leave until a quarter after eleven.
He had half believed that this was nothing more than a trap, that some of Sidney Prale's mysterious enemies were attempting to lure him to some out-of-the-way place and get him in their power. But if he was to be allowed to name the meeting place, it seemed to indicate that everything was all right in that regard.
Old friends waiting at the dock, and all that!" Sidney Prale's face clouded. "I am afraid that there will be no reception committee," he said. "I didn't let anybody know that I was coming for the simple reason that I didn't know whom to inform." "My boy!" "I have a few old friends scattered around some place, I suppose.
Prale slept well that night. When he awoke in the morning, Murk was dressed and sitting by the window. He drew Prale's bath without being told, and then stood around as if waiting to be of service. "I I found this slipped under your door, sir," he said, after a time. "What is it, Murk?" "A piece of paper with writing on it, sir." "More news from the enemy, I suppose. What does it say?"
Jim Farland asked him. "The woman seems to be working against you for some reason, and we know that George Lerton lied about meeting you on Fifth Avenue that night. It appears that he is working against you, too, for some mysterious motive." A dangerous gleam came into Sidney Prale's eyes. "That simplifies matters," he said.
Men began moving toward them, and women began walking away, fearing a scene and a quarrel. Sidney Prale's face had flushed, too, and he felt his anger rising again. "I am sure I do not wish to continue the acquaintance if you do not, sir," he said. "I can be courteous, at least." "Some men are not entitled to courtesy," Shepley roared. "What do you mean by that?" Prale demanded.
It creates a draft, I am sure, and Mr. Coadley already has cold feet!" The attorney glared at Prale, and then got up and walked quickly across to the door, which the grinning Murk held open to let him pass out. Coadley had not gone for more than an hour when Detective Jim Farland arrived at the hotel and made his way immediately to Sidney Prale's suite.
It was an elaborate pen, chased with gold, and on one side of it was a tiny gold plate, upon which Prale's name had been engraved. "You recognize it?" the captain asked. "Certainly; it is mine." "Oh, you admit that, do you?" "Naturally. But I fail to see how it came to be beside the body of Rufus Shepley." "A man who has committed a murder generally is in a hurry to get away," said the captain.
She was in the company of the elderly man who had met her at the wharf, and a young man and an older woman were at the same table. Prale's eyes met hers for an instant, and he inclined his head a bit in a respectful manner. But Kate Gilbert looked through him as if he had not been present, and then turned her head and began talking to the elderly man. Prale's face flushed.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking