One night last week a man was standing in front of a drug store in Lyons, Ga. It was twilight, and this man, of middle age, strongly built, in a dark suit with a soft hat pulled over one eye, delayed a minute on the pavement in front of the drug store, smoking a cigar and looking at nothing at all, perhaps, but the dusk rising out of the ground, or perhaps at three touring cars, filled with men, which drew up across the street. The men got out of the cars. They...

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