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Tracy, Louis, 1863-1928

"The Postmaster's Daughter"

"I got him,
too, I think."
"You must be mad, mad!" shrieked the detective, tearing open the window,
and vanishing.
"For Heaven's sake, Wally, no more shooting!" cried Grant, running
after Furneaux.
Minnie and her mother appeared at the dining-room door. Finding the place
in semi-obscurity, and reeking with gunpowder, they screamed loudly.
"You Steynholme folk are all on the jump," said Hart. "Cheer up, fair
dames! Thunder relieves the atmosphere, you know, and one live cartridge
is often more effective than an ocean of talk."
"Bub-bub-but who's shot, sir?" gasped Minnie.
"A ghost, a most scoundrelly apparition, with fearsome eyes, offensive
whiskers, and a hat which is a base copy of mine."
"Owd Ben!" sighed Mrs. Bates, collapsing straightway in a faint.
Luckily, Minnie caught her mother and broke her fall, because the
housekeeper was large and solid, and might have been seriously injured
otherwise. Hart was distressed by this development, but, being eminently
a ready person in an emergency, he rose to the occasion by extracting the
empty case from the revolver, and holding it to the poor woman's
nostrils, while supporting her with an arm and a knee.


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