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288 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1933
"I don't think I ever understood the phrase 'rooted to the spot' before that minute. For there at my feet, lying in the tall sea grass, was Red Gilpin. Curiously sprawled. Rigid.
His red hair was wet with dew - but his face! I turned away from the sight.
Suddenly it came to me as I looked over the white flecked rolling waves that those sounds of the night before had not all been car exhausts. They had been gun shots. Someone had shot and done away with Red Gilpin.
Ironically the old tag line of the poem pounded in my ears along with the crashing of the surf:
'Away went Gilpin-dum-de-dum-and sore against his will.'"