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Leaf the Fourteenth

An Adventure with Italian Brigands

by John B. Williams, M.D.


The reader must not suppose that a detective’s life is made up only of ad­ventures and hunting after criminals. We, as well as the rest of mankind, have our social hours, and I verily believe it has been my lot to meet with as many friends as anyone in a similar position in society. I had not resided long in New York before I became acquainted with some capital fellows. We formed a little social circle, and used to meet weekly at each others’ houses, where we passed the time most agreeably, relating adventures, telling stories, and playing chess. In the present number it is my intention to give to the reader an adven­ture which happened to one of my friends.

On the evening that he related it to us there were six of us met together. It was Henry Seldon’s turn to tell some event in his life. The night was draw­ing on apace, and the cozy appearance of our friend Melville’s study seemed to invite mutual confidence. It was a De­cember evening, and an unusual silence reigned, broken only by the rumbling of an occasional omnibus as it rolled down the street. The air was chilly and cold outside; but inside a delightful warmth pervaded the whole apartment.

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