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The Return of Dr. Fu-Manchu | Sax Rohmer | |
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Page 3 of 8 |
He laughed dryly. "Forgive me, old man," he replied. "I was so preoccupied with my own train of thought that it never occurred to me how absurd my request must have sounded. I will explain my singular tastes later; at the moment, hustle is the watchword." Evidently he was in earnest, and I ran downstairs accordingly, returning with a garden trowel, a plate of cold fish and a glass of milk. "Thanks, Petrie," said Smith--"If you would put the milk in a jug--" I was past wondering, so I simply went and fetched a jug, into which he poured the milk. Then, with the trowel in his pocket, the plate of cold turbot in one hand and the milk jug in the other, he made for the door. He had it open when another idea evidently occurred to him. "I'll trouble you for the pistol, Petrie." I handed him the pistol without a word. "Don't assume that I want to mystify you," he added, "but the presence of any one else might jeopardize my plan. I don't expect to be long." The cold light of dawn flooded the hallway momentarily; then the door closed again and I went upstairs to my study, watching Nayland Smith as he strode across the common in the early morning mist. He was making for the Nine Elms, but I lost sight of him before he reached them. |
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The Return of Dr. Fu-Manchu Sax Rohmer |
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