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

"Guy Garrick"


Garrick sprang back, grasping me by the arm and pulling me too.
But there was no need of caution. What was left of the door swung
back on its loosened hinges, seemed to tremble a moment, and then,
with a dull thud crashed down on the beautiful green marble of the
reception hall, reverberating.
We peered beyond. Inside all was darkness. At the very first sign
of trouble the lights had been switched out downstairs. It was
deserted. There was no answer to our shouts. It was as silent as a
tomb.
The clang of bells woke the rapid echoes. The crowd parted. It was
the patrol wagons, come just in time, full of reserves, at
Dillon's order. They swarmed up the steps, for there was nothing
to do now, in the limelight of the public eye, except their duty.
Besides Dillon was there, too.
"Here," he ordered huskily, "four of you fellows jump into each of
the next door houses and run up to the roof. Four more men go
through to the rear of this house. The rest stay here and await
orders," he directed, detailing them off quickly, as he
endeavoured to grasp the strange situation.


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