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Vance, Louis Joseph, 1879-1933

"The Brass Bowl"

After a
while he gives me the slip 'nd I chases down here, waitin' for him to turn
up. Coming down on the car I buys this paper 'nd sees the pictures, and
then I'm _on_. See?"
"Uh-huh," grunted the patrolman, scowling at Maitland. The cabby caressed
his nose with a soiled forefinger reflectively, plainly a bit prejudiced
by Hickey's exposition.
"One minute," Maitland interjected, eyes twinkling and lips twitching.
"How long ago was it that you began to watch this house, sleuth?"
"Five minutes before yeh come home," responded Hickey, ignoring the
insult. "Now--"
"Took you a long time to figure this out, didn't it? But go on, please."
"Well, I picked the winner, all right," flared the detective. "I guess
that'll be about all for yours."
"Not quite," Maitland contradicted brusquely, wearying of the
complication. "You say you met me on the stoop here. At what o'clock?"
"One; 'nd yeh takes me to lunch at Eugene's."
"Ah! When did I leave you?"
"I leaves yeh there at two."
"Well, O'Hagan will testify that he left me in these rooms, in
dressing-gown and slippers at about one. At four he found me on this
divan, bound and gagged, by courtesy of your friend, Mr. Anisty. Now,
when was I with you in Harlem?"
"At seven o'clock, to the minute, yeh comes--"
"Never mind. At ten minutes to seven I took a cab from here to the
Primordial Club, where I dined at seven precisely."
"And what's more," interposed the cabman eagerly, "I took yer there, sir.


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