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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Gordon Craig Soldier of Fortune"

His words confirmed
my judgment.
"Well said, my man. Now we begin to understand each other. Of course
I have the proofs. I would be a fool to sit in such a game without a
winning hand. Sit down, both of you, while we talk this over. There
is no reason why the three of us should not be friends, providing you
are sensible."
She had never removed her gaze from me, standing white-faced and rigid,
as though unable to fully comprehend. I doubt if she heard, to
distinguish, a syllable he spoke, her every thought centered on my
renunciation.
"But--but I am his wife," she panted indignantly. "Philip Henley's
wife. I--I showed you our certificate."
"A fake, a forgery," asserted the other roughly, before I could find
voice. "You had it framed up all right, if you had never run across
me. Show me the paper."
"I cannot, for it is not here. I placed it in my valise back at that
house." She stepped forward with hands held out toward me. "But you
know--Gordon Craig, you know. I could not have forged that; I had not
time; no information which would have led to such an act. You tell him
so."
"I hardly think he will, Madam," returned the Captain shortly,
evidently feeling it better not to let me speak. "And there is no use
going on with this any farther.


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