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

"Guy Garrick"


I saw him drop quickly on his knees beside the unconscious girl.
He tore open the heavy suitcase and a moment later he had taken
from it a sort of cap, at the end of a rubber tube, and had
fastened it carefully over her beautiful, but now pale, face.
"Pump!" Garrick muttered to me, quickly showing me what to do.
I did, furiously.
"Where did you come from?" he asked of Warrington. "I thought I
saw someone across the street who looked like you as we came
along, but you didn't recognise us and in a moment you were gone.
Keep on with that pulmotor, Tom. Thank heaven I came prepared with
it!"
Eagerly I continued to supply oxygen to the girl on the divan
before us.
Garrick had stooped down and picked up both the handkerchief with
its crushed bits of the kelene tube and near it a shattered glass
hypodermic.
"Oh, I got thinking about things, up there at Mead's," blurted out
Warrington, "and I couldn't stand it. I should have gone crazy.
While the doctor was out I managed to slip away and take a train
to the city.


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