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

"Guy Garrick"

There's no telling. The worst of it is that she and
her aunt are somewhere in the city, perhaps shopping. It only
needs that they become separated for something, anything, to
happen. There's been no time to warn her, either, and she's just
as likely to visit that Lucille to-night alone as not. Gad--I'm
glad I didn't fly off up there to Tuxedo, after all. She'll need
someone here to protect her."
Garrick was considering hastily what was to be done. Quickly he
mapped out his course of action.
"Come, Tom," he said hurriedly to me, as he wrapped up a little
cedar box which he took from the cabinet where he kept the
endormeur outfit. "Come--let's investigate that Ninth Street
address while we have time."


CHAPTER XVII
THE NEWSPAPER FAKE

Within a few minutes we were sauntering with enforced leisure
along Ninth Street, in a rather sordid part, inhabited largely, I
made out, by a slightly better class of foreigners than some other
sections of the West Side.
As we walked along, I felt Garrick tugging at my arm.


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