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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The Valley of Fear"

I don't think I'd begin with Mike Scanlan
or his gang if I were you."
"What the hell is it to you who are my friends?" roared McMurdo
in a voice which brought every head in the carriage round to
witness the altercation. "Did I ask you for your advice, or did
you think me such a sucker that I couldn't move without it? You
speak when you are spoken to, and by the Lord you'd have to wait
a long time if it was me!" He thrust out his face and grinned at
the patrolmen like a snarling dog.
The two policemen, heavy, good-natured men, were taken aback by
the extraordinary vehemence with which their friendly advances
had been rejected.
"No offense, stranger," said one. "It was a warning for your own
good, seeing that you are, by your own showing, new to the
place."
"I'm new to the place; but I'm not new to you and your kind!"
cried McMurdo in cold fury. "I guess you're the same in all
places, shoving your advice in when nobody asks for it."
"Maybe we'll see more of you before very long," said one of the
patrolmen with a grin. "You're a real hand-picked one, if I am a
judge."
"I was thinking the same," remarked the other.


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