And say, be careful how you tackle him. Remember that thing
about wisdom being better than--what's the word? Nerve?"
The hansom turned and sped down Fifth Avenue with its nervous
passenger. Dick shook his head wearily. Then he smiled. From his coat
pocket he slyly extracted a shining revolver. Three minutes before it
had been in David Jenison's pocket. "He's better off without a thing
like this," mused the clever philosopher.
Thomas Braddock rang the door-bell at the Portman home shortly after
eight o'clock. He was perfectly calm and in full possession of
himself. A brisk manservant opened the door and faced the strange
caller.
"I want to see Mrs. Braddock," said the man in the vestibule.
"Call again," said the servant curtly.
"Just a minute, please," said Braddock. He did not offer to resist the
closing of the door in his face. There was something in his tone,
however, that caused the footman to hesitate. He took a second,
surprised look at the gray, set face of the caller.
"Mrs. Braddock is occupied," he announced.
"You mean she isn't up yet. I'll wait," remarked Braddock, still very
quietly.
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