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Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

"The Definite Object A Romance of New York"


"Nothing, Spider, a mere passing thought."
"Well, I'm tellin' ye they'll get ye sure--it'll be th' water or a
forty-four bullet, or a blackjack or a knife--but you'll get it one way
or another!"
"Sounds cheering!"
"An' it ain't over-pleasant t' be sandbagged."
"No, Spider."
"Nor t' feel a lead pipe wrapped round th' back o' y'r bean."
"No indeed, Spider."
"Nor yet t' feel a stiletta diggin' between y'r shoulders or over y'r
collar bone."
"Worst of all, Spider."
"Well, you'd best pack y'r little trunk an' fade away, bo!" Ravenslee
sat up suddenly and looked at the Spider with eyes very bright and wide.
"Not for all the gangs that ever ganged!" said he softly.
"Eh?" exclaimed the Spider, staring, "what's yer game?"
"I'm going to try to buck this gang clean out of existence."
"You are, eh?"
"I am."
"Bo," sighed the Spider, shaking his head, "you ain't a ordinary
fool--you're a damned fool!"
"And you're going to help me, Spider!"
"Not me, bo, not me--I'm only just an ordinary fool!"
"Well, we'll let it go at that!" said Ravenslee, and lying back, he
yawned again.


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