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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"The Voice in the Fog"


"They turne out ther trashe
And shew ther haberdashe,
Ther pylde pedlarye."
There's no romance in collars and cuffs and ties and suspenders.


CHAPTER XXI
Meanwhile Killigrew arrived in New York, went to the bank and deposited
Kitty's opal, and sought his office.
"There's a Mr. Haggerty in your office, Mr. Killigrew. I told him to
wait."
"Haggerty, the detective?"
"Yes. He said you'd be glad to see him. Has news of some sort."
Killigrew hurried into his private office. "Hello, Haggerty! What's
the trouble this morning?"
"Got some news for you." Haggerty accepted a cigar. "I've a hunch
that I can find Miss Killigrew's sapphires."
"No! I thought they had been sold over the other side."
"Seems not."
"Got your man?"
"Nope. Funny kind of a job, though. Fooled th' customs inspectors.
Sapphires 'r here in New York, somewheres."
"A thousand to you, Haggerty, if you recover them."
"A row between two stewards on th' _Celtic_ gave me th' clue."
"Why, that's the boat I came over on."
"Sure thing.


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