"
"You can't frighten him," she cried passionately, "You know you
can't. He'll kill the Black Minorca, or the Black Minorca will kill
him. Go instantly and stop it."
"All right, all right!" he said rather humbly, and sprang down the
front steps into the waiting car. "I'll play the game fairly,
Shirley, never fear."
She stood in the doorway and watched the red tail-light, like a
malevolent eye, disappear down the street. And presently as she stood
there, down the boulevard a huge gray car came slipping noiselessly--
so noiselessly, in fact, that Shirley recognized it by that very
quality of silence. It was Bryce Cardigan's Napier.
"George!" she called. "Come here."
The car slid over to the gate and stopped at the sight of the slim
white figure running down the garden walk.
"Is Mr. Cardigan hurt?" she demanded in an agony of suspense.
George Sea Otter grunted contemptuously. "Nobody hurt 'cept the Black
Minorca. I am taking him to your company hospital, miss. He tried to
shoot my boss, so I shoot him myself once through the leg. Now my
boss says: 'Take him to the Laguna Grande hospital, George.' Me, I
would drop this greaser in the bay if I was the boss."
She laughed hysterically. "On your way back from the hospital stop
and pick me up, George," she ordered.
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