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pending/1607: Friend Detox your body while dropping pounds (pending)

From: bug-gnats
Subject: pending/1607: Friend Detox your body while dropping pounds (pending)
Date: Sat, 10 Jan 2009 23:16:28 -0600 (CST) 
>Number:         1607
>Category:       pending
>Synopsis:       Friend Detox your body while dropping pounds
>Confidential:   no
>Severity:       serious
>Priority:       medium
>Responsible:    unassigned
>State:          open
>Class:          sw-bug
>Submitter-Id:   net
>Arrival-Date:   Sat Jan 10 23:16:28 -0600 2009
>Originator:     "OrganicaLabs" <address@hidden>
>Release:        
>Description:
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 HTML Message - Friend Detox your body while dropping pounds
 
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 <br>
 
 <a href="http://www.atlato.com/pages/runningclick.asp?handle=10818";>
 Are you planning to drop a few? Kick-Start it with Colon Ox™</a></font><br>
 
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width="550"></a>
 
 <br>
  <a href="http://www.atlato.com/pages/runningout.asp?handle=10818";><img 
src="http://www.atlato.com/imgs/colotime/unsub.gif"; border="0"></a><br>
 
 
 
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 <I sat down in an armchair and felt very sick. That lasted for maybe five 
minutes, and was succeeded by a fit of the horrors. The poor staring white face 
on the floor was more than I could bear, and I managed to get a table cloth and 
cover it. Then I staggered to a cupboard, found the brandy and swallowed 
several mouthfuls. I had seen men die violently before; indeed I had killed a 
few myself in the Matabele War; but this cold blooded indoor business was 
different. Still I managed to pull myself together. I looked at my watch, and 
saw that it was half past ten.
 An idea seized me, and I went over the flat with a small tooth comb. There was 
nobody there, nor any trace of anybody, but I shuttered and bolted all the 
windows and put the chain on the door. By this time my wits were coming back to 
me, and I could think again. It took me about an hour to figure the thing out, 
and I did not hurry, for, unless the murderer came back, I had till about six 
oclock in the morning for my cogitations.
 I was in the soup that was pretty clear. Any shadow of a doubt I might have 
had about the truth of Scudders tale was now gone. The proof of it was lying 
under the table cloth. The men who knew that he knew what he knew had found 
him, and had taken the best way to make certain of his silence. Yes; but he had 
been in my rooms four days, and his enemies must have reckoned that he had 
confided in me. So I would be the next to go. It might be that very night, or 
next day, or the day after, but my number was up all right.
 Then suddenly I thought of another probability. Supposing I went out now and 
called in the police, or went to bed and let Paddock find the body and call 
them in the morning. What kind of a story was I to tell about Scudder? I had 
lied to Paddock about him, and the whole thing looked desperately fishy. If I 
made a clean breast of it and told the police everything he had told me, they 
would simply laugh at me. The odds were a thousand to one that I would be 
charged with the murder, and the circumstantial evidence was strong enough to 
hang me. Few people knew me in England; I had no real pal who could come 
forward and swear to my character. Perhaps that was what those secret enemies 
were playing for. They were clever enough for anything, and an English prison 
was as good a way of getting rid of me till after June 15th as a knife in my 
chest.
 Besides, if I told the whole story, and by any miracle was believed, I would 
be playing their game. Karolides would stay at home, which was what they 
wanted. Somehow or other the sight of Scudders dead face had made me a 
passionate believer in his scheme. He was gone, but he had taken me into his 
confidence, and I was pretty well bound to carry on his work.
 You may think this ridiculous for a man in danger of his life, but that was 
the way I looked at it. I am an ordinary sort of fellow, not braver than other 
people, but I hate to see a good man downed, and that long knife would not be 
the end of Scudder if I could play the game in his place.
 It took me an hour or two to think this out, and by that time I had come to a 
decision. I must vanish somehow, and keep vanished till the end of the second 
week in June. Then I must somehow find a way to get in touch with the 
Government people and tell them what Scudder had told me. I wished to Heaven he 
had told me more, and that I had listened more carefully to the little he had 
told me. I knew nothing but the barest facts. There was a big risk that, even 
if I weathered the other dangers, I would not be believed in the end. I must 
take my chance of that, and hope that something might happen which would 
confirm my tale in the eyes of the Government.>
 
 
 
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