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Gordon Craig - Soldier of Fortune by Randall Parrish
page 28 of 290 (09%)

"An' do yer live here?" the gruff tone still vibrant with suspicion.
"Fer if ye do, yer 're sure a new gurl," and he peered at her shadowed
face in the dim light. She drew in her breath sharply.

"No," her voice steadying, now she realized she must carry out the
deception. "My place is three blocks yet, around the next corner."

"Thet 's a prutty thin story, Miss. Then whut wus the two ov' yer
doin' in here?"

She clutched the brick coping with one hand, never glancing toward me,
her eyes fixed imploringly on the glistening face of the questioning
policeman. Yet she responded instantly with the quick wit of a clever
woman.

"I had my foot on the step, tying my shoe," she explained simply. "You
don't arrest people for that, do you?"

It was plain enough the officer was puzzled, yet he reluctantly
released his grip on my arm, boring the end of his club into the brick
wall.

"It's half Oi' belave yer stringin' me roight now," he announced
doubtfully, "but Oi 'll give yer ther benefit ov' the doubt; only the
two ov' yer better kape on a-goin' till yer git under cover. Don't let
me run across yer along this beat agin ternight. Be gory av yer do, Oi
'll let yer explain to ther sargint over at ther station. Go on now!"

I felt her hand touch my sleeve timidly, and caught a swift glimpse of
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