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Johnson, Owen, 1878-1952

"Murder in Any Degree"


"Certainly by way of Paris."
"With a dash of Vienna?"
"Run it off the map!"
"Good old Jack! You're coming back, my boy, you're coming strong!"
"Am I? Just watch!" Dancing over to the desk, he seized a dozen heavy
books:
"'Evolution and Psychology,' 'Burning Questions!' 'Woman's Position in
Tasmania!' Aha!"
One by one, he flung them viciously over his head, reckoning not the
crash with which they fell. Then with the same _pas de ballet_ he
descended on the hat-box and sent it from his boot crashing over the
piano. Before De Gollyer could exclaim, he was at the closet, working
havoc with the boxes of cigars.
"Here, I say," said De Gollyer laughing, "look out, those are cigars!"
"No, they're not," said Lightbody, pausing for a moment. Then, seizing
two boxes, he whirled about the room holding them at arms' length,
scattering them like the sparks of a pin-wheel, until with a final
motion he flung the emptied boxes against the ceiling, and, coming to an
abrupt stop, shot out a mandatory forefinger, and cried:
"Jim, you dine with me!"
"The fact is--"
"No buts, no excuses! Break all engagements! To-night we celebrate!"
"Immense!"
"Round up the boys--all the boys--the old crowd.


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