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Reeve, Arthur B. (Arthur Benjamin), 1880-1936

"The Poisoned Pen"


A buzzer hissed.
"Here's an alarm now," he exclaimed, all attention.
"Three," "six," "seven," the numbers appeared on the annunciator.
The clerks in the office moved as if they were part of the mechanism.
Twice the alarm was repeated, being sent out all over the city.
McCormick relapsed from his air of attention.
"That alarm was not in the shopping district," he explained, much
relieved. "Now the fire-houses in the particular district where
that fire is=20have received the alarm instantly. Four engines, two
hook-and-ladders, a water-tower, the battalion chief, and a deputy
are hurrying to that fire. Hello, here comes another."
Again the buzzer sounded. "One," "four," "five" showed in the
annunciator.
Even before the clerks could respond, McCormick had dragged us to
the door. In another instant we were wildly speeding uptown, the
bell on the front of the automobile clanging like a fire-engine,
the siren horn going continuously, the engine of the machine
throbbing with energy until the water boiled in the radiator.
"Let her out, Frank," called McCormick to his chauffeur, as we
rounded into a broad and now almost deserted thoroughfare.
Like a red streak in the night we flew up that avenue, turned into
Fourteenth Street on two wheels, and at last were on Sixth Avenue.


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