SEARCH
0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Prev | Current Page 113 | Next

Wilson, Harry Leon, 1867-1939

"The Boss of Little Arcady"


Perhaps that will be near enough in the right spirit for Billy."
Quickly we made ready for the desperate assignation, pulling our hats
well down, in a way that we thought Billy would approve.
Four blocks along the street, by rapid walking, we came within hail of
the intrepid young detective. We were also opposite the marble yard of
Cornelius Lawson, who wrought monuments for the dead of Little Arcady.
In front of the shop were a dozen finished and half-finished stones,
ghostly white in the dusk. It seemed indeed to be a spot impressive
enough to meet even Billy's captious requirements, but we had underrated
the demands of his artist's conscience. Solon called to him.
"Won't this do, Billy?"
Billy stopped dramatically, turned back upon us, and then exploded:--
"Fools! Would you ruin all? You must not be seen addressing me. Now I
must disguise myself."
Turning stealthily from us, he swiftly adjusted a beard that swept its
sable flow down his youthful chest. Then he addressed us again, still in
tense, hoarse accents.
"Are you armed?"
"To the teeth!" answered Solon, with deadly grimness, and with a
presence of mind which I envied.
"Then follow me, but at a distance!"
Meekly we obeyed.


Pages:
101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125