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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Gordon Craig Soldier of Fortune"

The
door remained ajar, and, if escape was possible, now was the time.
With head reeling dizzily, I crept through the opening, yet held the
latch, fascinated by the first spoken words within.
"Well, Broussard, what is it?"
"All seen to, sir."
"The bodies are planted then?"
"The men attended to that."
"And the woman?"
"On her way; there was no trouble. Sallie had her doped, sir."
"I expected she would. Then that finishes our job here, Herman, and
the quicker we are off the better." The two men arose to their feet,
Herman grumbling something in German, but the younger man interrupted.
"We got the fellow after you left, Broussard; hit him a bit too hard it
seems, but no one will ever investigate, so it's just as well.
Adventurer named Craig, just discharged from the army."
"Where is he?"
"Lying there in the passage behind the door. Have Peters and Sam bury
him along with the others, and then join us. We 'll go aboard."
I shut the door, and started down the passage. For a dozen steps it
was black as night; then there was a sharp swerve to the right, and a
gleam of daylight in the far distance. Already they were at the
barrier, and I ran forward recklessly, eager to escape into the open.
The way was clear, the floor rising slightly, yet without obstructions.


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