284
The Man of Last Resort.
by the busy surgeons. At the curb he stopped for a moment and looked up and down the avenue. Well, it was justice. For seven years he had flown the black flag of piracy. Among all the buccaneers of the street, the hand of none had been heavier, and the brain of none had been keener than his own. Every man who had passed up a prisoner on to the deck of his galleon, had walked the plank. It was now his turn. It was justice.
Carper spoke to the cabman. Then he stepped in and closed the door.
The man of last resort was probably gone. There was now no resort but to the steel thing on the table.
THE END.
