" "Well, then, lose no time in bringing him to us," said Mrs. She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. They were delighted. "Crime upon crime. ” “I may have to run,” said her father, with an appeal to his watch. "Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. He did not like it, he said, with a significant look, to be reminded of either his books or his dinners after he had done with them. I get my driver's license tomorrow. "Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave.
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