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Sinclair, Upton, 1878-1968

"They Call Me Carpenter"

"Here's our
infernal machine," I whispered, and I picked it up gingerly, and
tiptoed out of the room, and back to the kitchen, and down a rear
stairway of the building. I unlocked the door and opened it--and
there, crouching in the shadows alongside the door, just as I
expected, I saw a man.
"Hello!" I whispered.
"Hello!" said he, badly startled.
"Here's something belonging to Hamby. He wants me to give it to you.
Be careful, it's heavy." I deposited the box in his hands, and shut
the door, and turned the lock again, and groped my way upstairs,
chuckling to myself as I imagined the man's plight. He would not
know what to make of this incident, and I had an idea he would not
be able to find out, because he could not leave his post. Nor would
he have much time to figure over the matter; for when I got back to
the light, I looked at my watch, and it lacked just three minutes to
twelve.
I found that Lynch and Old Joe had shut the pacifist in the closet,
and were in the ante-room waiting for me.


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