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Rohmer, Sax, 1883-1959

"The Golden Scorpion"

Having run the cab into the yard,
I alighted and looked around the deserted grounds, mysterious in the
moonlight. Company would have been welcome, but excepting a constable
who had stopped and chatted with me on one or two evenings I always
had the stables to myself at night.
I determined to run the cab into the stable and lock it up without
delay, for it was palpably dangerous in the circumstances to remain
longer than necessary in that lonely spot. Hurriedly I began to put
out the lamps. I unlocked the stable doors and stood looking all about
me again. I was dreading the ordeal of driving the cab those last ten
yards into the garage, for whilst I had my back to the wilderness of
bushes it would be an easy matter for anyone in hiding there to come
up behind me.
Nevertheless, it had to be done. Seating myself at the wheel I drove
into the narrow building, stopped the engine and peered cautiously
around toward the bright square formed by the open doors. Nothing was
to be seen. No shadow moved.
A magazine pistol held in my hand, I crept, step by step, along the
wall until I stood just within the opening. There I stopped.
I could hear a sound of quick breathing! There was someone waiting
outside!
Dropping quietly down upon the pavement, I slowly protruded my head
around the angle of the brick wall at a point not four inches above
the ground. I knew that whoever waited would have his eyes fixed upon
the doorway at the level of a man's head.


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