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You probably know as well as I do, that the small purple mark, accompanied by the swelling, which I noticed on her arm, would result only from the hasty and careless use of the hypodermic needle." "What you tell me, Morgan," said Marsh, "confirms what I have thought for some time. That is, that Jane Atwood is only the innocent tool of her father, and the gang behind him. Perhaps not even that.
Then logic came to his aid; and, deducing with care and patience, an earnest conviction grew within him that the dark circles under his eyes and the tottering old gentleman resembling Dr. Austin Atwood had a great deal to do with this dreadful disease which Dr. Hollis desired to study.
But to make a long story short, I finally brought their source close to a man named Atwood, by finding out that his daughter Jane occasionally paid for things with this particular series of counterfeit five-dollar notes." "I located this man's home, where he lived with his wife and daughter. Neighbors believed him to be a traveling man as he was away a great deal.
Well may the Walrus, most discerning and eclectic of beasts, place sealing-wax midway on his programme of topics that fall pertinent and diverting upon the ear. Atwood was gone he of the hospitable back porch and ingenuous cunning. Dr.
"Who's Miss Cynthia?" pursued Ruth with great curiosity, "and why don't you want your mother to know?" "Why, Miss Cynthia Atwood, of course. Don't you know her yet? You're fortunate, that's all I can say. She lives in that funny little house near the library, and she's the last surviving member of one of the oldest families here. I ought to know, for she's told me times enough."
This was my plot: Mrs. Rayne had been reading a book that I had bought for the home-voyage, and was to finish it before evening. I selected the duplicate of the paper which "Waitstill Atwood Eliot" had put in a bottle and cast adrift when her case had been desperate, and laid it in the book a page or two beyond Mrs. Rayne's mark.
"Say, he's wasted," said Atwood. "A man with his line of talk might be President of the United States." "Sure he might," Henry agreed. "I've told him a lot of times he's throwing away his chance." The office of the incipient oil king was on the main street of the straggling town. At the back there was a window which gave a view of a hill or two and a mountain beyond.
"And who bought the mines of Todman and of Lee that came into the market in the same way last year?" "The same company, Brother Morris." "And who bought the ironworks of Manson and of Shuman and of Van Deher and of Atwood, which have all been given up of late?" "They were all bought by the West Gilmerton General Mining Company."
On the other hand, if Hunt possessed such power with Merton there could be no object in his wanting to get him out of the way. Certainly, a man in Hunt's position would not have had dealings with a crook like Atwood.
I'll prove myself a true Atwood, worthy to sustain the family name and honor by keeping my promises, and if I break them, you yourself, deep in your heart, would despise me." For a moment the old merchant was nonplussed, so adroitly and unexpectedly had Roger turned his words against him. Then, like most men suddenly put in a false position, he grew angry, and blurted out, "Nonsense!
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