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by Mary Lee


Mr. Amos Smithers was a jeweler on Main street, Marysville, which is, as you know, a flourishing town in one of the Middle States. Mr. Amos Smither’s shop had been broken open the night before, and he was now holding a consultation with Detective Drake, who was examining into the matter with an eye to every detail of the case. But there seemed to be no clue to the robber.

“The thing has been very neatly done,” said Detective Drake.  “An old hand, I should say.”

“I don't see how we all slept through it,” said Mrs. Smithers, who had come into the shop and taken a seat. She was a pretty, well-dressed woman, with decidedly more pretension about her than her husband. Their daughter Elsie stood behind Mrs. Smither’s chair, also pretty, also well-dressed, and with that indescribable attractiveness about her that is sure to win its possessor friends all over the world.

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