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THE END OF THE DUEL
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pinned him to the floor with a strangling hand on his throat.
Guerchard dashed to the door, tried it, and found it locked, dashed for the window, threw it open, and thrust out his head. Forty yards down the street a motor-car was rolling smoothly away—rolling to a honeymoon.
"Oh, hang it!" he screamed. "He's doing a bunk in my motor-car!"
