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Title: The Spy Who Sold Death Author: Arthur Leo Zagat * A Project Gutenberg of Australia eBook * eBook No.: 1400981h.html Language: English Date first posted: Feb 2014 Most recent update: Oct 2015 This eBook was produced by Paul Moulder and Roy Glashan. Project Gutenberg of Australia eBooks are created from printed editions which are in the public domain in Australia, unless a copyright notice is included. We do NOT keep any eBooks in compliance with a particular paper edition. Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing this file. This eBook is made available at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg of Australia License which may be viewed online at http://gutenberg.net.au/licence.html To contact Project Gutenberg of Australia go to http://gutenberg.net.auGO TO Project Gutenberg Australia HOME PAGE
. . _ . _ _ _ . _ . . . . _ _ . _ . . _ _ _ . . _ . _ . _ . _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ . . . _ _ . _ . . _ . . . . _ _ _ _ _ . . . . . _ _ _ _ . . _ . . _ . . . _ . . _ . _ _ . . _ . . . . _ . . . _ . _ . . _ . _ _ _The dots and dashes were in the Morse code, and Duane read them as fluently as though they were in the common alphabet. He read; "Foreign agent Room 3 Winston Hotel Determine identity T." He reached out and twitched the strap from the table-top. A thread broke and the whole thing unravelled, the beads spilling to the floor. Duane heaved from his couch, looked ruefully down at the mess he had made, scratching his head. A quarter hour later he was out on the sidewalk in front of his shop, was speaking to Otto Rumpf, the bearded, skull-capped owner of the bookstore next to him on the left. "I'm feeling rotten today," he said. "If you'll watch my place for me I'll go in back and lie down." The man peered at him with bleared eyes magnified by thick lenses. "Ja," he growled. "Your lips are cracked und dere iss no color in your face. Go und rest. I vill tage care uff your shtore like mein own." Duane returned to the small room in the rear and lay down again, pulling the blankets up over his shoulders and his head. The long form tossed for a while and then was still. Ford Duane crawled out from behind the cot, glanced backward to it. The lumped sheets under the blanket looked very realistic. No one glancing through the half-curtained opening would have any reason to doubt that he still lay there. He crawled to a side wall that could not be seen from outside and lifted to his feet. A touch of his finger on an excrescence in the plaster—and a panel slid noiselessly open to reveal a recessed niche. Duane went into the niche and the panel closed silently behind him.