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Pinkerton, A. Frank [pseud.]

"Or, The Crime of the Midnight Express"

The sending of the
letter was part of the scheme. Had this failed, then a bolder move
would have been made.
But it did not fail.
When Mr. Elliston rapped at room 14, number 388 Blank street, the door
was opened, admitting the visitor to a small room containing a bed, a
few necessary articles of furniture, and a curtained alcove.
The door was suddenly closed and locked behind Elliston, light was
turned on fully, and then the visitor found himself confronted by
Harry Bernard, whom he had met once or twice in Woodburg, many months
before.
"Eh!" ejaculated Elliston. "So you are the man who wrote that note
requesting an interview? Well, I am glad to see you, Mr. Bernard," and
Elliston held out his hand, with a smile wreathing his thin lips.
"I imagined you would be," returned the youth. "I am glad to see you
so well. Fact is, you are badly wanted out in Illinois at the present
time."
"I am sorry that I cannot accommodate my friends out there," returned
Elliston, with a frown; "but it is wholly out of the question. I think
I will bid you good evening, Mr. Bernard. I cannot waste precious time
here."
He turned and grasped the door-knob. It did not yield to his touch.


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