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Stevenson, Burton Egbert, 1872-1962

"The Gloved Hand"

I exhaled the
fragrant smoke slowly.
"Godfrey," I said, "I never knew what tobacco was before. Are these
cigars purchasable? I'm only a poor lawyer, but even one a month would
be a thing to look forward to and dream about."
But Godfrey shook his head.
"I've felt like that," he said; "but they're not to be had for money.
And now about Swain."
"Let's postpone it a little longer," I begged. "I don't want my mind
distracted."
Godfrey laughed, but fell silent; and for the next half hour, no sound
was heard.
"Now," I said, at last, "I'm ready to listen, so fire ahead whenever
you want to."
"I haven't much to tell," he began; "nothing new about the case. But I
stopped at the Tombs, before I started back, to make sure that Swain
had everything he wanted. They'd given him an upper cell, and sent
over to the Marathon and got him his things, and I arranged to have
his meals sent in to him from Moquin's."
"I ought to have thought of that," I said, contritely. "I'm much
obliged to you, Godfrey. Did you see him?"
"Only for a minute. He seemed fairly cheerful. He'd had them bring
some of his law books to him, and remarked that he'd have plenty of
time to study.


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