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

"Guy Garrick"

Then there is
another form of the thing, in a box about four inches square and,
perhaps, nine or ten inches long which I may bring up later for
another purpose when we find out what we are going to do with the
ends of those wires that are now dangling on the outside of the
window. We must pick up the connection in some safe and
inconspicuous place outside the garage."
The window through which the wires passed seemed to open, as I had
already noticed, on a little yard not much larger than a court.
Garrick opened the window and stuck his head out as far as the
iron bars would permit. He sniffed. The odor was anything but
pleasant. It was a combination of "gas" from the garage and stale
beer from the saloon.
"No doubt about it, that is a saloon," remarked Garrick, "and they
must pile empty kegs out there in the yard. Let's take a walk
around the corner and see what the front of the place looks like."
It was a two and a half story building, with a sloping tin roof,
of an archaic architecture, in a state of terrible decay and
dilapidation, and quite in keeping with the neighbourhood.


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