But
there was none anywhere.
"We were all put out of business," muttered Garrick, as he worked
over Dillon. Dillon opened his eyes blankly at last, then
struggled up to his feet. "You got it worst, commissioner,"
remarked Garrick to him. "You were closest."
"Got what?" he sputtered, "Was closest to what?"
We were all still choking over the peculiar odor in the fetid air
about us.
"The bulletless gun," replied Garrick.
Dillon looked at him a moment incredulously, in spite even of his
trying physical condition.
"It is a German invention," Garrick went on to explain, clearing
his throat, "and shoots, instead of bullets, a stupefying gas
which temporarily blinds and chokes its victims. The fellow who
was in here didn't shoot bullets at us. He evidently didn't care
about adding any more crimes to his list just now. Perhaps he
thought that if he killed any of us there would be too much of a
row. I'm glad it was as it was, anyway. He got us all, this way,
before we knew it.
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