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

"The Black Box"

"
"I am sorry," she murmured. "I was led away for a moment. But, Mr. Quest,"
she went on piteously, "can't we do something? Laura's so brave. She tried
to laugh when I left her, an hour ago, but I could see all the time that
she was suffering agony. Fancy a man doing that to a woman! It makes me
feel that I can't rest or sleep. I think that when I have left the
hospital I shall just walk up and down the streets and watch and search."
Quest shook his head.
"That sort of thing won't do any good," he declared. "It isn't any use,
Lenora, working without a plan. That's why I'm here now, waiting. I want
to formulate a plan first."
"Who are we," the Professor asked drearily, "to make plans against a fiend
like that? What can we do against men who have revolving staircases and
trolley-loads of river pirates waiting for them? You may be a scientific
criminologist, Quest, but that fellow Craig is a scientific criminal, if
ever there was one."
Quest crossed the room towards his cigar cabinet, and opened it. His
little start was apparent to both of them. Lenora laid down the bag which
she had just lifted up. The Professor leaned forward in his chair.
"What is it, Quest?" he demanded.
Quest stretched out his hand and picked up from the top of the cigars a
small black box! He laid it on the table.
"Unless I am very much mistaken," he said, "it is another communication
from our mysterious friend."
"Impossible!" the Professor exclaimed hoarsely.


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