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Rohmer, Sax, 1883-1959

"The Golden Scorpion"

"
"Why do you say that?"
"It is dangerous. From the friendly manner in which you entered into
conversation with me, I perceived that you were of a genial and
unsuspicious nature. Very well. I warn you. Last night I was followed
from a certain street not far from here to the house of a medical man
who is a specialist in certain kinds of criminology, you understand."
He stared at me very hard, his teeth bared by that fearful snarl. "You
are a strange cabman."
"Perhaps I am. No matter. Take my advice. I have things written
here"--I tapped the breast of my tunic--"which will astonish all the
world shortly. I tell you, my friend, my fortune is made."
I finished my drink and ordered another for myself and one for my
acquaintance. He was watching me doubtfully. Taking up my replenished
glass, I emptied it at a draught and ordered a third. I leaned over
towards the scarred man, resting my hand heavily upon his shoulder.
"Five thousand pounds," I whispered thickly, "has been offered for the
information which I have here in my pocket. It is not yet complete,
you understand, and because they may murder me before I obtain the
rest of the facts, do you know what I am going to do with this?"
Again I tapped my tunic pocket. "Le Balafre" frowned perplexedly.
"I don't even know what you are talking about, my friend," he replied.
"_I_ know what I am talking about," I assured him, speaking more and
more huskily. "Listen, then: I am going to take all my notes to my
friend, the doctor, and leave them with him, sealed--sealed, you
follow me? If I do not come back for them, In a week, shall we say?--he
sends them to the police.


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