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

"Guy Garrick"


"I feel that I can safely resign my job as guardian," was all he
remarked, finally. "Neither of them could be in better hands.
Only, keep that boy quiet a few days. You can do it better than I
can--you and Miss Winslow. Trust me to do the rest."
A moment later we were passing out through the hotel lobby, as
Garrick glanced at his watch.
"A wonderful woman, after all," he mused, in the manner of one who
revises an estimate formed hastily on someone else's hearsay.
"Well, it's too late to do anything more to-night. I suppose those
papers are printed down at the Star. We'll stop and get them in
the morning. Did you recognise the voice over the vocaphone?"
"I can't say I did," I confessed.
"Perhaps you aren't used to it and things sound too metallic to
you. But I did. It was the Chief."
"I suspected as much," I replied. "Where do you suppose he went?"
Garrick shrugged his shoulders.
"I doubt whether we could find him in New York to-night," he
answered, slowly. "I think he must feel by this time that the town
is getting too hot for him.


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