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Rinehart, Mary Roberts

"Bab"


I by now cared little for the Reward but everything for
honor.
The second Theif was now aproaching. I sank behind a
steamer chair and waited.
Need I say here that I meant to kill no one? Have I not, in
every page, shown that I am one for peace and have no desire for
bloodshed? I think I have. Yet, when the Theif apeared on the
verandah and turned a pocket flash on the leather bag, which I
percieved was one belonging to the Familey, I felt indeed like
shooting him, although not in a fatal spot.
He then entered the room and spoke in a low tone.
_The Reward was mine_.
I but slipped to the window and closed it from the outside,
at the same time putting in a nail as mentioned before, so that
it could not be raised, and then, raising my revolver in the
air, I fired the remaining four bullets, forgeting the roof of
the verandah which now has four holes in it.
Can I go on? Have I the strength to finish? Can I tell how
the Theif cursed and tried to raise the window, and how every
one came downstairs in their night clothes and broke in the
library door, while carrying pokers, and knives, et cetera.


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