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Reeve, Arthur B. (Arthur Benjamin), 1880-1936

"The Silent Bullet"

"
"You may retain me on one condition," said Craig without moving.
"I am to be free to get at the truth whether it benefits or hurts
the company, and the case is to be entirely in my hands."
"Hats on," agreed Mr. Andrews, reaching in his vest pocket and
pulling out three or four brevas. "My chauffeur is quite a
driver. He can almost beat the subway down."
"First, to my laboratory," interposed Craig. "It will take only a
few minutes."
We drove up to the university and stopped on the campus while
Craig hurried into the Chemistry Building to get something.
"I like your professor of criminal science;" said Andrews to me,
blowing a huge fragrant cloud of smoke.
I, for my part, liked the vice-president. He was a man who seemed
thoroughly to enjoy life, to have most of the good things, and a
capacity for getting out of them all that was humanly possible.
He seemed to be particularly enjoying this Morowitch case.
"He has solved some knotty cases," was all I said. "I've come to
believe there is no limit to his resourcefulness."
"I hope not. He's up against a tough one this trip, though, my
boy."
I did not even resent the "my boy." Andrews was one of those men
in whom we newspaper writers instinctively believe. I knew that
it would be "pens lifted" only so long as the case was
incomplete.


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