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Written by W. C. Tuttle 3y6y3g


W. C. Tuttle o5e4x

James Eaton Legg hooked his heels over the rounds of his high stool, stretched wearily and looked out through the none-too-clean windows to where a heavy fog almost obscured the traffic. Heavy trucks lumbered past, grinding harshly over the cobbles. Somewhere a street-car motorman did a trap-drum effect on his gong; a ferry boat whistled boomingly... 292e1k