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Guy Garrick

18. The Vocaphone
Promptly to the dot I met Garrick at the appointed place. Not a word so far had
been heard, either from Violet Winslow or Mrs. de Lancey. There was one thing
encouraging about it, however. If they had become separated while shopping, as
sometimes happens, we should have been likely to hear of it, at least from her
aunt.
Garrick was tugging the heavy suitcase which I had seen standing ready down in
his office during the afternoon, as well as a small package wrapped up in paper.
"Let me carry that suitcase," I volunteered.
We trudged along across the park, my load getting heavier at every step.
"I'm not surprised at your being winded," I panted, soon finding myself in the
same condition. "What's in this--lead?"
"Something that we may need or may not," Garrick answered enigmatically, as
we stopped in the shadow to rest.
He carefully took an automatic revolver from an inside pocket and stowed it
where it would be handy, in his coat.
We resumed our walk and at last had come nearly up to the house on the first
floor of which the maid Lucille was. The suitcase was engaging all my attention,
as I shifted it from one hand to the other. Not so Garrick, however. He was
looking keenly about us.
"Gad, I must be seeing things to-night!" he exclaimed, his eyes fixed on a figure
slouching along, his hat pulled down over his eyes, passing just about opposite
us on the other side of the street. I looked also in the gathering dusk. The figure
 
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