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Nicholson, Meredith, 1866-1947

"The Port of Missing Men"


"Horses; saddle our two horses quick--and get another if you have to
steal it," he screamed. Then he turned into the room to curse Zmai, while
Durand with a towel and water sought to ease the ache in the big fellow's
head and cleanse his face.
"So that beggarly little servant did it, did he? He stole that paper I
had given you, did he? What do you imagine I brought you to this country
for if you are to let two stupid fools play with you as though you were a
clown?"
The Servian, on his knees before Durand, suffered the torrent of abuse
meekly. He was a scoundrel, hired to do murder; and his vilification by
an angered employer did not greatly trouble him, particularly since he
understood little of Chauvenet's rapid German.
In half an hour Chauvenet was again in a fury, learning at Lamar that the
operator had gone down the road twenty miles to a dance and would not be
back until morning.
The imperturbable Durand shivered in the night air and prodded Chauvenet
with ironies.
"We have no time to lose. That message must go tonight. You may be sure
Monsieur Armitage will not send it for us.


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