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American Detective Fiction    Prior to July 1891

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  Published in
The New York Ledger, August 8, 1857.
 
The Disguised Robbers
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From a Lawyer’s Notebook
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by Sylvanus Cobb, Jr.
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  “Good morning, “ I returned.

“Ah—lawyer—is this you?” my visitor uttered, starting up.

“Yes, sir,” I told him.

“And don’t you remember your old classmate, Harvey Gibson?”

It was Harvey, sure enough. Good, generous Harvey—only grown a little older, and with a slightly increased rotundity of frame. We shook hands, and were soon talking of old times. But he didn’t seem inclined to converse with much spirit.

“How is brother Charley?” I asked him.

“Ah!” he answered, with a sudden clasping of the hands, while a shade of deep pain passed over his handsome face, “that’s it. He’s in jail!”

“In jail?”

“Yes. In jail. And it is on that account I have come here. Poor Charley! He’s in a bad fix, . . .

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    The following story, told to me by an old friend, gave me so much pleasure that I determined to share it with the million readers of the LEDGER. My friend told it in this wise:—

“Not long since I was stopping awhile at Lawrenceburg, Indiana. A former partner of mine had been doing business there, and as matters were pressing I consented to remain and assist him. He was away in Ohio, and I was in charge of his office—a very respectable affair, by the way, and delightfully located. Early one morning as I sat alone, with my feet on the desk, engaged in imaging the presence of all sorts of figures in the smoke that curled up from my cigar, the door opened and a man entered. He was young; not over thirty-five, and I was sure I had seen him before. He bowed and took a seat.

“Good morning, sir,” he said.

   

 

 


 

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