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Updated: June 15, 2025
"Because I do not care to give you information if you are still to work for Prale." "You say that Prale knows his enemies and why they are fighting him. If he does, he never has told me. Tell me that much since you say Sid Prale knows it already. It couldn't hurt your side at all." "We might tell you later." "You've got some very good reason for not telling me!" Farland accused.
He honestly believes that Prale does not know his enemies or why he is being bothered, and he is grateful to Prale for what Prale has done for him. So, naturally, he refuses to turn against his employer." "If you will leave the matter in my hands " the masked man suggested. "I may do so after we have had this little talk. Come closer, so I can speak in a low tone and he will not hear."
He saw a gigantic man who had the general appearance of a thug, whose chin was thrust forward aggressively, and whose hands were opening and closing as if he wished they were around Sidney Prale's throat. "I've a notion to smash you one!" the fellow said, advancing toward Prale a bit. Prale's temper flamed at once. His own chin was shot forward, and his own hands closed.
"We want to know what Prale thinks about the situation. Tell us all you know concerning the Rufus Shepley murder case. Has Sidney Prale said anything you have been able to hear about the enemies who are bothering him? You understand what we want to know everything possible about Prale's plans. And we want you to watch henceforth, and keep us informed in a way I shall explain to you."
"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" he demanded. "Has my office been turned into a rendezvous for maniacs?" "Sit down!" Sidney Prale cried. He had not taken his eyes off Lerton, had not even turned to speak to Jim Farland, had not even wondered how Farland had escaped and come here. Lerton dropped back into his chair, wetting his thin lips, his eyes furtive now. "You miserable cur!"
It seemed to him that the waiter was a long time giving him service. He remonstrated, and the man asked pardon and said that he would do better, but he did not. Prale found that his soup was lukewarm, his salad dressing prepared imperfectly, the salad itself a mere mess of vegetables. The fish and fowl he had ordered were not served properly, the dessert was without flavor, the cheese was stale.
A bag was wide open; he had left it closed and in a corner less than an hour before. Prale went down on his knees and made a quick inspection. There did not seem to be anything missing. A package of papers business documents for the greater part had been examined, he could tell at a glance, but none had been taken. "Peculiar!" Prale told himself. "Some sneak thief, I suppose.
"It is easy to drop a fountain pen from a pocket, especially if a man is bending over." "I don't even know where Shepley's rooms were located," Prale said. "I didn't know the pen was missing until this minute " "Possibly not," replied the captain of detectives. "And I am quite sure I do not know how it came to be beside the body, but of one thing I am certain I did not drop it there."
The physicians say that he was killed about eleven o'clock last night." "I understand; go on, please." "He had been stabbed through the heart," said the captain. "Death had been instantaneous." "But why suspect me of the crime?" Prale asked. "This was found beside the body," the captain replied. From the desk before him he picked up a fountain pen.
He was broke and friendless, and I was a millionaire and almost as friendless. That's the only way I can explain it." "I'm going to send you to another office under guard, Mr. Prale," the captain said. "I'll have these people here in a short time, and we'll question them. Just tell me where you bought the clothes for this man, and what barber shop you visited."
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