Читать книгу The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald онлайн

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He reached the first sidewalk, continued on until he saw a hedge far from any lamp-post, and turned in behind it. Within a minute he heard several series of footsteps—he waited—it was a woman and he held his breath until she passed … and then a man, a laborer. The next passer, he felt, would be what he wanted … the laborer’s footfalls died far up the drenched street … other steps grew near, grew suddenly louder.

Dalyrimple braced himself.

“Put up your hands!”

The man stopped, uttered an absurd little grunt, and thrust pudgy arms skyward.

Dalyrimple went through the waistcoat.

“Now, you shrimp,” he said, setting his hand suggestively to his own hip pocket, “you run, and stamp—loud! If I hear your feet stop I’ll put a shot after you!”

Then he stood there in sudden uncontrollable laughter as audibly frightened footsteps scurried away into the night.

After a moment he thrust the roll of bills into his pocket, snatched off his mask, and running quickly across the street, darted down an alley.


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