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England, George Allan, 1877-1936

"The Air Trust"

"
"Come on, then," said Gabriel. "I'll see you through the whole business,
and onto the train. Maybe I can help you, all along."
Without another word she started, with Gabriel at her side. They
traversed the main street, two blocks, then turned to the left down a
narrower, darker one.
"Here's Micolo's," said she, pausing at a doorway. Gabriel nodded. "All
right," he answered. He had not noted, nor did he dream, that, at the
corner behind them, two slinking, sneaking figures were now watching his
every move.
The woman turned the knob, and entered. Gabriel followed.
"It's on the second floor," said she. Gabriel saw a sign, on the
landing: "S. L. Micolo, Pawn Broker," and motioned her to precede
him.
In a minute they had reached the upper hallway. The woman opened another
door. The room, inside, was dark.
"This way," said she. "He's in the inside office, I guess. The light
must ha' gone out here, some way or other."
Gabriel hesitated. Some inkling, some vague intuition all at once had
come upon him, that all was not well.


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