![]() In a thousand homes the evening meal was being prepared, and the day's gossip related. A quiet serenity, a dreamy contented peace, pervaded Stockton, contrasting with the tense excitement of the preceding night. Its streets were filled now with workers returning home from the mills, tired and blackened, calling out to the friends they met for the latest news on that \"Morgan criter\" as they termed it. A city bathed in the golden afternoon sunlight. More than once he glanced back at the city below. By the time the sun hung poised above the western horizon, Lanier was already ascending that steep, twisted road. He went out such and such a concrete road and turned up a ruddy lane, very steep. A mighty bad road it was too, and this Foster had been very particular about the moving of his stuff. This man lived several miles from the city in a northeastern direction and had hired them to haul some boxes from the railroad to his home, an old farmhouse. None of them knew anything of Deadmold, but they had done some work for a certain Foster who corresponded exactly to Lanier's description. Until late in the afternoon, he tramped warily through the town, asking in all quarters the same question: do you know of anyone named Det Mold who lives in or around Stockton? A tall, strong man? And from all he questioned, he got no trace until he happened into the office of a small trucking and hauling company. His face was drawn and haggard, as it had been since he first read a certain humorous newspaper despatch, and in his mind was an immense perplexity, a vague, chilling fear. Chapter three: Lanier arrived in Stockton early the next morning. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. ![]() Chapter three of The Medal Giants by Edmound Hamilton.
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