“Not quite, but I struck an Amazon,” was the reply, and he of the brown beard tried to smile.
“Tell me; did you encounter Margie?”
“No one else. What made you guess her?”
“Her name popped into my head somehow or other. Guess I must have been thinking of her when you came in. What did she hit you with?”
“With a crowbar, from the way my head feels; but never mind. It’s a long lane, you know.”
Claude Lamont smiled.
“You do pretty well for a ‘dead man,’” and then both men burst into a laugh.
“I’ll wring her neck for it yet!” suddenly cried George Richmond. “I’ll have the blood of that girl for her blow!”
CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE PARRICIDE.
“You’d better not try it.”