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Wilson, Harry Leon, 1867-1939

"The Boss of Little Arcady"

I don't _say_ he
did, mind you,--but strange things happen in this world.
"But that's neither here nor there," he went on more lightly. "Potts has
brought it on himself."
In silence, then, we awaited the return of the messenger. The moment was
tensely electric when at last we heard the clatter of his boots on the
stairway. Breathless, he entered and stood before us, his coolness for
once destroyed under the strain of his adventure. Solon helped him to a
chair with soothing words.
"Take it easy now, Billy! Get your breath--there--that's good! Now tell
us all about it--just what you said and just what he said and just what
talk there was back and forth."
"Gosh-all-Hemlock!" spluttered Billy, not yet equal to his best
narrative style.
We waited. He drew a dozen long breaths before he was again the cold,
self-possessed, steely-eyed avenger.
"Well," he began brightly, "I gains access to our man in his wretched
den on the second floor of the Eubanks Block. As good luck would have
it, he was alone by hisself, walkin' up and down, swingin' his arms like
he was practisin' one o' them speeches of his.
"Well, I had it all fixed up fine how I was goin' to act, and what I was
goin' to say to him, and how I'd back up a few paces against the wall
and say, 'Not a word above a whisper, or I'll send this bullet through
your craven heart!' and he'd fall down on his knees and beg me in vain
for mercy and so on.


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