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A Perilous Journey


I was getting four hundred dollars a year for my services in Pinkey’s Private Detective Bureau—and I suppose at the time, without much experience in the detective business, a mere student or apprentice as it were—it was all I was worth. But I had a sanguine disposition and was trusting to make my way eventually to fame and possible fortune. This accomplished I should be able to offer the fair Alice Morton my hand and a suitable home; my heart she already had, and I was treasuring the memory of Alice’s last words at Christmas. “Wait and hope, Guy, dear; wait and hope. Certainly it’s so easy to.”

“Governor wants you, Westwood. He’s sharp this morning, very sharp; so look out,” said a fellow officer to me one day.

“You understand a little Italian, I think,” said Mr. Pinkey.

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