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

"Guy Garrick"

Garrick planted a shot squarely in his head.
Without wasting time on any formalities, such as ringing the bell,
we kicked and battered in the back door. We paused a moment, not
from fear but because the odor inside was terrific. No one could
have stayed in that house and retained his senses. One by one,
Garrick flung open the windows, and we were forced to stick our
heads out every few minutes in order to keep our own breath.
From one room to another we proceeded, without finding anyone.
Then we mounted to the second floor. The odour was worse there,
but still we found no one.
The light on the third floor had been extinguished, as I have
said. We made our way toward the corner where it had been. Room
after room we entered, but still found no one. At last we came to
a door that was locked. Together we wrenched it open.
There was surely nothing for us to fear in this room, for a bomb
had penetrated it, and had filled it completely. As we rushed in,
Garrick saw a figure sprawled on the floor, near the bed, in the
corner.


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