The Postmaster's Daughter by Louis Tracy
page 211 of 292 (72%)
page 211 of 292 (72%)
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body was roped?"
"Indeed, I do not. Some incidents of that horrible half hour have gone into a sad jumble. I recollect you calling attention to the matter, but what your point was I really cannot say now. Perhaps it may come back if you explain." "Well, we don't seem to be making a great deal of progress, sir, and I was wondering whether you two gentlemen might help. I don't want it mentioned. I'm taking a line of me own." Grant repressed a smile. He recalled well enough the first "line" the policeman took, and the mischief it had caused. Being an even-minded person, however, he admitted that his own behavior had not been above suspicion on the day the crime was discovered. In allotting blame, as between Robinson and himself, the proportion was six of one and half a dozen of the other. "Propound, justiciary," said Hart. "You've started well, anyhow. The connection between a line and a rope should be obvious even to a judge.... As a pipe-opener, have a drink!" Robinson had removed his helmet, and was flourishing a red handkerchief, not without cause, the day being really very hot. "Not for a few minutes, thank you, sir," said the policeman. "May I ask Bates for a sack and a cord?" He went to the kitchen. Hart was "tickled to death," he vowed. |
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