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Updated: June 12, 2025
"Bound for Seaville, I'll wager," sounded a familiar voice in my ear, as I hurried up to the train entrance at the Long Island corner of the Pennsylvania Station. I turned quickly, to find Kennedy just behind me, breathless and perspiring. "Er yes," I stammered in surprise at seeing him so unexpectedly, "but where did you come from? How did you know?" "Let me introduce Mr.
The rest is dispersed in the atmosphere. There must be a good deal of such stray electrical energy about Seaville. Isn't it possible that it might hit some one somewhere who was susceptible?" Kennedy said nothing. Waldon's was at least a novel idea, whether it was plausible or not.
They took the body to town, and there it was recognized. They sent word out to us immediately." Waldon had already spun the engine of his tender, which was about the fastest thing afloat about Seaville, had taken Edwards over, and we were off in a cloud of spray, the nose of the boat many inches above the surface of the water.
Jack Waldon," he went on, as we edged our way toward the gate, "the brother of Mrs. Tracy Edwards, who disappeared so strangely from the houseboat Lucie last night at Seaville. That is the case you're going to write up, isn't it?" It was then for the first time that I noticed the excited young man beside Kennedy was really his companion.
It was late in the afternoon when he finished, and we had just time to run up to the dock at Seaville and stop off at the Lucie to see if anything had happened in the intervening hours before dinner. There was nothing, except that I found time to file a message to the Star and meet several fellow newspaper men who had been sent down by other papers on the chance of picking up a good story.
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