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

"Gold of the Gods"

He was bending over the lock of the door
looking at it intently.
"Broken?" I managed to say.
"No--corroded," he replied. "You keep still. Save your energy.
I've got strength enough for two, for a while."
He came over to the bed and bent over me. "I won't hurt you," he
encouraged, "but just let me get a drop of your blood."
He took a needle and ran it gently into my thumb beside the nail.
A drop or two of blood oozed out and he soaked it up with a piece
of sterile gauze.
"Try to sleep," he said finally.
"And you?" I asked.
"It's no use. I'm going over to the laboratory. I can't sleep.
There's a cop down in front of the house. You're safe enough. By
George, if this case goes much further we'll have half the force
standing guard. Here--drink that."
I had made up my mind not to go to sleep, if he wouldn't, but I
slipped up when I obeyed him that time. I thought it was a
stimulant but it turned out to be a sedative.
I did not wake up until well along in the morning, but when I did
I was surprised to find myself so well. Before any one could stop
me, I was dressed and had reached the door.
A friend of ours who had volunteered to stay with me was dozing on
a couch as I came out.


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