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QUARRY There was a shout from the road. And the shout spoiled any intention Harry, the Goose, may have had for a second shot. Yet he knew that his first and only shot had gone wide of the mark. With that peculiar, microscopic interest that all men have for little things in the midst of big events, Harry had seen a blood-red rose, well off to one side of Craig, drop as if the stem of it had been snipped by invisible shears, and knew that it was there his bullet had passed. Besides, Craig had him--had seized his two …