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Hope, Anthony, 1863-1933

"A Man of Mark"

Of course he
was! It was the President!
My hands were full with my burden, and before I could do anything, I
saw the muzzle of his revolver pointed full--At me? Oh, no! At the
signorina!
"If you move a step I shoot her through the heart, Martin," he said,
in the quietest voice imaginable.
The signorina looked up as she heard his voice.
"Put me down, Jack! It's no use," she said; "I knew how it would be."
I did not put her down, but I stood there helpless, rooted to the
ground.
"What's the matter with her?" he said.
"Fell and sprained her ankle," I replied.
"Come, Martin," said he, "it's no go, and you know it. A near thing;
but you've just lost."
"Are you going to stop us?" I said.
"Of course I am," said he.
"Let me put her down, and we'll have a fair fight."
He shook his head.
"All very well for young men," he said. "At my age, if a man holds
trumps he keeps them."
"How long have you been here?"
"About two minutes. When I didn't see you at the bank I thought
something was up, so I galloped on to her house. No one there! So I
came on here. A good shot, eh?"
The fall had done it. But for that we should have been safe.


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