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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"Green Fancy"

Barnes," said he, salting his eggs, "you have
been thinking that I was sent down from Green Fancy to spy on you.
Isn't that so?"
"I am answering no questions, Mr. Sprouse."
"You were wrong," said Sprouse, as if Barnes had answered in the
affirmative. "I am working on my own. You may have observed that I did
not accompany the sheriff's posse to-day. I was up in Hornville
getting the final word from New York that you were on the level. You
have a document from the police, I hear, but I hadn't seen it. Time is
precious. I telephoned to New York. Eleven dollars and sixty cents.
You were under suspicion until I hung up the receiver, I may say."
"Jones has been talking to you," said Barnes. "But you said a moment
ago that you were up at Green Fancy last night. Not by invitation, I
take it."
"I invited myself," said Sprouse succinctly. "Are you inclined to
favour my proposition?"
"You haven't made one."
"By suggestion, Mr. Barnes. It is quite impossible for me to get
inside that house. You appear to have the entree. You are working in
the dark, guessing at everything. I am guessing at nothing. By
combining forces we should bring this thing to a head, and--"
"Just a moment.


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