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Nicholson, Meredith, 1866-1947

"The Port of Missing Men"

And there's all
there is of the story, and I don't care a damn whether you believe it or
not."
Their eyes were fixed upon each other in a gaze of anger and resentment.
Suddenly, Armitage's tense figure relaxed; the fierce light in his eyes
gave way to a gleam of humor and he laughed long and loud.
"Your face--your face, Claiborne; it's funny. It's too funny for any use.
When your teeth show it's something ghastly. For God's sake go in there
and wash your face!"
He made a light in his own room and plied Claiborne with towels, while he
continued to break forth occasionally in fresh bursts of laughter. When
they went into the hall both men were grave.
"Claiborne--"
Armitage put out his hand and Claiborne took it in a vigorous clasp.
"You don't know who I am or what I am; and I haven't got time to tell
you now. It's a long story; and I have much to do, but I swear to you,
Claiborne, that my hands are clean; that the game I am playing is no
affair of my own, but a big thing that I have pledged myself to carry
through. I want you to ride down there in the valley and keep Marhof
quiet for a few hours; tell him I know more of what's going on in
Vienna than he does, and that if he will only sit in a rocking-chair
and tell you fairy stories till morning, we can all be happy.


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Fundacja Iskierka Fundacja Avalon Nasze Dzieci Niechciane i Zapomniane Mam Marzenie