Prev | Current Page 111 | Next

MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"The Voice in the Fog"

The prince, the lightest of sleepers, had
slept through it all. He had awakened with a violent headache, as had
four of his servants. The big Rajput who had stood watch was in the
hospital, still unconscious.
All the way from San Francisco the police had been waiting for such a
catastrophe. The newspapers had taken up and published broadcast the
story of the prince's pastime. Naturally enough, there was not a crook
in all America who was not waiting for a possible chance. Ten
emeralds, weighing from six to ten carats each; a fortune, even if
broken up.
Haggerty laid aside the newspaper and gravely finished his ham and eggs.
"I'll take a peek int' this, Milly," he said to his wife. "We've been
waiting for this t' happen. A million dollars in jools in a chest y'
could open with a can-opener. Queer ginks, these Hindus. We see lots
o' fakers, but this one is the real article. Mebbe a reward. All
right; little ol' Haggerty can use th' money. I may not be home t'
supper."
"Anything more about Mr. Crawford's valet?"
Haggerty scowled.


Pages:
99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123