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Freeman, R. Austin (Richard Austin), 1862-1943

"The Vanishing Man"

The little
two-wheeled vehicle had evidently been used to convey the appliances
which were deposited on the ground near it, and which consisted of a
large tub--now filled with water--a shovel, a rake, a sieve, and a
portable pump, the latter being fitted with a long delivery hose. There
were three men besides the constable, one of whom was working the handle
of the pump, while another was glancing at a paper that the constable
had just delivered to him. He looked up sharply as I appeared, and
viewed me with unconcealed disfavour.
"Hallo, sir!" said he. "You can't come here."
Now, seeing that I actually was here, this was clearly a mistake, and I
ventured to point out the fallacy.
"Well, I can't allow you to stay here. Our business is of a private
nature."
"I know exactly what your business is, Inspector Badger."
"Oh, do you?" said he, surveying me with a foxy smile. "And I expect I
know what yours is, too. But we can't have any of you newspaper gentry
spying on us just at present, so you just be off.


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