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Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips), 1866-1946

"The Black Box"

"If they're guys enough to be
tricked by a girl, the best thing they can do is to keep mum about it and
let her go. That's about what they did to me."
Inspector French, who was standing a little aloof, regarded Laura with an
air of unwilling admiration.
"That's some girl, that Miss Laura," he muttered in an undertone to Quest.
"She roasted us nicely."
"I mustn't stop to hear your story, Lenora," Quest said. "You're
safe--that's the great thing."
"Found her in an empty house," French reported, "out Gayson Avenue way.
Now, Mr. Quest, I don't want to come the official over you too much, but
if you'll kindly remember that you're an escaped prisoner--"
There was a knock at the door. A young man entered in chauffeur's livery,
with his head still bandaged. Quest motioned him to come in.
"I'll just repeat my story of that morning, French," Quest said. "We went
out to find Macdougal, and succeeded, as you know. Just as I was starting
for home, those two thugs set upon me. They nearly did me up. You know how
I made my escape. They went off in my automobile and sold it in Bethel. I
arrested them there myself this morning. Here's the Sheriff, who will bear
out what I say, also that they arrived at the place in my automobile."
"Sure!" the Sheriff murmured.
"Further," Quest continued, "there's my chauffeur. He knows exactly what
time it was when the tire of my car blew out, just as we were starting for
New York."
"It was eleven-ten, sir," the chauffeur declared.


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