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Punshon, E. R. (Ernest Robertson), 1872-1956

"The Bittermeads Mystery"

I haven't time to explain now.
I don't think he is coming back. I expect he is only loaded with
small shot, and he doesn't dare try a long range shot or come near
now he knows I'm ready for him."
"But it's--it's impossible--Walter," stammered the general.
"Impossible."
"The impossible so often happens," answered Rupert, and handed his
pistol to him. "You must trust me, father, and do what I tell you.
Take this pistol in case you are attacked on the way home. You may
be, but I don't think it's likely. Get the motor out and go straight
to Wreste Abbey. An attempt on uncle's life will be made tonight,
if they still carry out their plans, about dinner-time tonight. See
that every possible precaution is taken. See to that first. Then
send help as soon as you can to Bittermeads, a house on the
outskirts of Ramsdon; any one there will tell you where it is."
"But what are you going to do?" General Dunsmore asked.
"I'm going to find Walter, if he's still hiding in the wood here,
as he may be," Rupert answered. "I should like a little chat with
him." For a moment he nearly lost his self-control, and for a
single moment there showed those fiery and tempestuous passions he
was keeping now in such stern repression. "Yes a little talk with
him, just us two," he said. "And if he's cleared out, or I can't
find him I'm going straight on to Bittermeads.


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