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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"The Strange Case of Cavendish"

A gleam of
light shot out, revealing the figures of men. With one spring he was
across the shapeless form on the ground, and had vanished into the
darkness beyond.
Lacy was first to reach the unconscious body, stumbling over it in the
black shadow, as he rushed forward, revolver in hand. He cursed,
rising to his knees, and staring about in the silent darkness.
"There's a man lying here--dead likely. Bring a light. No, the fellow
is alive. Dammit, it's Moore, and completely knocked out. Here
you--what happened?"
The fellow groaned, opened his eyes, and looked about dazedly.
"Speak up, man!" and Lacy dragged him to a sitting position in no
gentle fashion. "Who hit you?"
"There--there was a fellow at that window there. I--I saw him from
below, and crept up behind but he turned around just as I struck."
"Who was he?"
"I never saw his face. He hit me first."
"He was at that window, you say?"
"Yes; kneelin' down like he was lookin' into the room. Oh, Lord!"
Lacy crunched over to the side of the shack, and bent down to get a
better view.


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