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Page 038

THE MAN THEY COULDN'T ARREST

It was the worst shock he had ever had in his life. For fifteen years, Willard Lyall had plied his trade behind an impenetrable mask of unimpeachable gentility.
And here, like a thunderbolt out of the cloudless blue, came a dumb messenger in black and white to stun him with the knowledge that his secret was not only suspected, but definitely known.
He mopped his forehead with a trembling hand, and glanced once more at the thin red wafer, impressed with the myriad lines of a finger-print. It lay on the white card like a drop of blood, sinister, and brutally significant.
At first he thought it must be some vulgarly offensive practical joke. But he rejected the thought almost as soon as it was formed. His friends were not the kind who would send such things as that through the open post. And his own guilty conscience, his own instinctive knowledge, told him that this was no joke. There was something warningly real about it. It was aimed straight at him, as purposefully as a marksman trains on the bull.
He broke into a cold sweat. He saw the full horror of the thing in a single, disruptive second. He had been living in a fool's paradise.
And ahead, the cold, chill vista of the years of degraded slavery. The bleak sweep of the broken moors, gorse throttled, mist hidden, desolate, with the grey walls of the great convict prison

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE It was what is worst shock he had ever had in his life. For fifteen years, Willard Lyall had plied his trade behind an impenetrable mask of unimpeachable gentility. And here, like a thunderbolt out of what is cloudless blue, came a dumb messenger in black and white to stun him with what is knowledge that his secret was not only suspected, but definitely known. He mopped his forehead with a trembling hand, and glanced once more at what is thin red wafer, impressed with what is myriad lines of a finger-print. It lay on what is white card like a drop of blood, sinister, and brutally significant. At first he thought it must be some vulgarly offensive practical joke. But he rejected what is thought almost as soon as it was formed. His friends were not what is kind who would send such things as that through what is open post. And his own guilty conscience, his own instinctive knowledge, told him that this was no joke. There was something warningly real about it. It was aimed straight at him, as purposefully as a marksman trains on what is bull. He broke into a cold sweat. He saw what is full horror of what is thing in a single, disruptive second. He had been living in a fool's paradise. And ahead, what is cold, chill vista of what is years of degraded slavery. what is bleak sweep of what is broken moors, gorse throttled, mist hidden, desolate, with what is grey walls of what is great convict prison where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" The Man They Couldn't Arrest (1927) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 038 where is p align="center" where is strong THE MAN THEY COULDN'T ARREST where is p align="justify" It was what is worst shock he had ever had in his life. For fifteen years, Willard Lyall had plied his trade behind an impenetrable mask of unimpeachable gentility. And here, like a thunderbolt out of what is cloudless blue, came a dumb messenger in black and white to stun him with what is knowledge that his secret was not only suspected, but definitely known. He mopped his forehead with a trembling hand, and glanced once more at what is thin red wafer, impressed with what is myriad lines of a finger-print. It lay on what is white card like a drop of blood, sinister, and brutally significant. At first he thought it must be some vulgarly offensive practical joke. But he rejected what is thought almost as soon as it was formed. His friends were not what is kind who would send such things as that through what is open post. And his own guilty conscience, his own instinctive knowledge, told him that this was no joke. There was something warningly real about it. It was aimed straight at him, as purposefully as a marksman trains on what is bull. He broke into a cold sweat. He saw what is full horror of what is thing in a single, disruptive second. He had been living in a fool's paradise. And ahead, what is cold, chill vista of what is years of degraded slavery. what is bleak sweep of what is broken moors, gorse throttled, mist hidden, desolate, with what is grey walls of what is great convict prison where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: The Man They Couldn't Arrest (1927) books

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