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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Condensed Novels: New Burlesques"


I mean the cigar case. It was incrusted with diamonds."
"And the largest one had been supplanted by paste," I said.
"Ah," he said, with a reflective smile, you know that?"
"You told me yourself. I remember considering it a proof of your
extraordinary perception. But, by Jove, you don't mean to say you
have lost it?"
He was silent for a moment. "No; it has been stolen, it is true,
but I shall still find it. And by myself alone! In your
profession, my dear fellow, when a member is seriously ill, he does
not prescribe for himself, but calls in a brother doctor. Therein
we differ. I shall take this matter in my own hands."
"And where could you find better?" I said enthusiastically. "I
should say the cigar case is as good as recovered already."
"I shall remind you of that again," he said lightly. "And now, to
show you my confidence in your judgment, in spite of my
determination to pursue this alone, I am willing to listen to any
suggestions from you."
He drew a memorandum book from his pocket and, with a grave smile,
took up his pencil.
I could scarcely believe my senses. He, the great Hemlock Jones,
accepting suggestions from a humble individual like myself! I
kissed his hand reverently, and began in a joyous tone:
"First, I should advertise, offering a reward; I should give the
same intimation in hand-bills, distributed at the 'pubs' and the
pastry-cooks'.


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