He had fallen off when trying to tie down his aluminum paint ladder. “I heard the other day that she’d been taken in by some cad of a fellow who was cutting a great dash in Paris, personating Meysey Hill, the great railway man. Ray Plote would not leave a written explanation. She had slapped him away with her free hand and the finger was released suddenly, sending her careening to the floor. He fended these things off from him with the rump of his fourth piece of cake. "Can't I settle this business, Captain," muttered Blueskin, drawing a pistol.
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