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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"The Hollow of Her Hand"

His attorney, who
had been a silent listener from the beginning, spoke for the first
time.
"If Mr. Smith will call at my office to-morrow, I will attend to
the closing of this matter to his entire satisfaction. Mr. Wrandall
has already authorised me to settle in full for his time and--patience."
"I don't like to take money in this way--"
"We won't discuss ethics, Mr. Smith."
"Just as you like, then. I'm only too happy to be off the job. Good
morning, madam. Good morning, gentlemen."
He stalked from the room. Watson was waiting in the hall.
"This way," he said, indicating the big front door.
Smith grinned sheepishly. "'Gad, they don't even think I can find
a front door," he said.
Redmond Wrandall turned to the two men after he heard the door of
his automobile slam in the porte-cochere.
"Gentlemen, I believe it is unnecessary to announce to you that I
did not speak over the telephone with my daughter-in-law on that
wretched night," he said slowly.
They nodded their heads.
"I am not a good liar. Do you think the fellow believed me?"
"No," said Sara instantly. "He is accustomed to better lying than
you can supply. But it doesn't in the least matter. He knows, however,
that you spoke the truth when you said I was in my apartment, even
though you are not sure of it yourself, Mr.


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