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

"The Poisoned Pen"

Kennedy's attention was
attracted to them immediately. All at once it flashed on me what
his purpose was. In some of those cases were the smuggled goods!
Before I could say a word and before Kennedy had a chance even to
try to verify his suspicions, a sudden approach of footsteps
startled us. He drew me into a cabin or room full of shelves with
ship's stores.
"Why didn't you bring Herndon over and break into the boxes, if you
think the stuff is hidden in one of them?" I whispered.
"And let those higher up escape while their tools take all the
blame?" he answered. "Sh-h."
The men who had come into the compartment looked about as if
expecting to see some one.
"Two of them came down," a gruff voice said. "Where are they?"
>From the noise I inferred that there must be four or five men, and
from the ease with which they shifted the cases about some of them
must have been pretty husky stevedores.
"I don't know," a more polished but unfamiliar voice answered.
The door to our hiding-place was opened roughly and then banged
shut before we realised it. With a taunting laugh, some one turned
a key in the lock and before we could move a quick shift of packing
cases against the door made escape impossible.


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