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Various

"The Best Short Stories of 1921 and the Yearbook of the American Short Story"

No chance to pack
much. All I wanted to carry was information. And there was only
Somerfield along."
"But Somerfield--he, as I take it, was the photographer, was he not? Did
he not take care of the negatives? It would not have been much for him
to take care of."
"Well you see, he did take care of his negatives. But circumstances were
different at the time. He had laid them away somewhere. After I killed
him, I just brought away the camera and that was all."
Positively, I gasped at the audacity of the man. He said the words "I
killed him," so quietly, in so matter of fact a way, that for the moment
I was breathless. Like most other men, I had never sat face to face with
one who had taken the life of another. Even soldiers, though they, we
suppose, kill men, do it in a machine-like way. The killing is
impersonal. The soldier handles the machine and it is the machine that
kills. The individual soldier does not know whether he kills or not.
That is why we are able to make much of the soldier, perhaps, I have
thought since, though it never appeared to me in that light before I met
Rounds. Actually, we are repelled at the thought of a man who kills
another deliberately. If it were not so, as Rounds pointed out, we would
make a hero of the public executioner.


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