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Tracy, Louis, 1863-1928

"The Postmaster's Daughter"

As
for me, I am his loyal comrade, and shall remain so after next Wednesday,
or a score of Wednesdays. I am going in now, Mr. Siddle, and shall be
engaged during the remainder of the evening. Your shop opens at six, and
I am sure you will find some more profitable means of spending the time
than in telling me things I would rather not hear."
Siddle caught her arm.
"Doris," he said fiercely, "you must not leave me without, at least,
learning my true motive. I--"
The girl wrested herself free from his grip. She realized what was
coming, and forestalled it.
"I care nothing for your motive," she cried. "You forget yourself!
Please go!"
She literally ran into the house. The chemist, unless he elected to
behave like a love-sick fool, had no option but to follow, and make his
way to the street by the side door.
The only other happening of significance that Sunday was an unheralded
visit by Winter to the policeman's residence.
He popped in after dusk, opening the door without knocking.
"You in, Robinson?" he inquired.
"Yes, sir. Will you--"
"Shan't detain you more than a minute. At the inquest you said that you
personally untied the rope which bound Miss Melhuish's body.


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