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Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

"The Definite Object A Romance of New York"

Swiftly he strode
across that familiar court, shoulders squared, chin outthrust, and eyes
that glowed ominously in his pale face beneath fierce-scowling brows. As
he turned into Tenth Avenue there met him the Spider.
"What you chasin' this time, bo?" he enquired.
"M'Ginnis."
"Then you're sure chasin' trouble."
"That's what I want. D' you know where he is?"
"Sure I do, but--"
The Spider paused, drawing in his breath slowly, as with experienced
gaze he viewed Ravenslee's pale, set face--the delicate nostrils wide
and quivering, the relentless mouth and burning eyes and all the
repressed ferocity of him and, drawing back a step, the Spider shook his
head.
"Bo," said he, "that's jest what I ain't goin' t' tell ye."
"Very well, I must find him."
"Don't!" said the Spider, walking on beside him, "if I didn't think a
whole lot o' ye, I'd lead ye t' him."
"Oh--I shall find him, if it takes me all night."
"An' if ye do, it'll be murder, I'm dead sure--"
"Murder?" said Ravenslee with a flash of white teeth.


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