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

"The Poisoned Pen"

You are the real
firebug, the tool of Joseph Stacey, perhaps, but that will all come
out in the trial. McCormick, McCormick," called Craig, "it's all
right. I have the warrant. Are the police there?"
There was no answer.
Lazard and Stacey made a sudden dash for the door, and in an instant
they were in Stacey's waiting car. The chauffeur took off the brake
and pulled the lever. Suddenly Craig's pistol flashed, and the
chauffeur's arms hung limp and useless on the steering-wheel.

As McCormick with the police loomed up, a moment late, out of the
darkness and after a short struggle clapped the irons on Stacey and
Lazard in Stacey's own magnificently upholstered car, I remarked
reproachfully to Kennedy: "But, Craig, you have shot the innocent
chauffeur. Aren't you going to attend to him?"
"Oh," replied Kennedy nonchalantly, "don't worry about that. They
were only rock-salt bullets. They didn't penetrate far. They'll
sting for some time, but they're antiseptic, and they'll dissolve
and absorb quickly."

V
THE CONFIDENCE KING

"Shake hands with Mr. Burke of the secret service, Professor
Kennedy."
It was our old friend First Deputy O'Connor who thus in his bluff
way introduced a well-groomed and prosperous-looking man whom he
brought up to our apartment one evening.


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