Once more, good-night!"
"I'm off," said Marston. "Come along, Crenshaw, you can't do anything
more here, and we'll all forget and forgive and start fresh in the
morning."
"Start?" cried Crenshaw? "what for--home? I tell you the letter is
here--he took it, didn't he? He was at the cab."
"Will you also give your word that you didn't take a letter from the
cab?" Crenshaw demanded, turning upon Harleston.
"I'll give you nothing since you've asked me in that manner," Harleston
replied sharply; "unless you want this." His hand came from under the
sheet, and Crenshaw was looking into a levelled 38. Harleston had a pair
of them.
"Beat it, my man!" Harleston snapped. "None of you are of much success
as burglars; you're not familiar with the trade. You're novices, rank
novices. Also myself. I'll give you until I count five, Crenshaw, to
make your adieux. One ... two ... No need for you two to hurry away--the
time limit applies only to Mr. Crenshaw."
"It's quite time we were going, Mr. Harleston," Marston answered.
"Good-night, sir--and pleasant dreams. Come on, Crenshaw."
"Three ... four ..."
Crenshaw made a gesture of final threat.
"Meddler!" he exclaimed. Then he followed the other two.
IV
CRENSHAW
Harleston lay for a few minutes, brows drawn in thought; then he arose,
crossed to the telephone, and took down the receiver.
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