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"Stop!" exclaimed Mortimer, raising his pistol. Behrend caught his hand. "We'll hear you in a minute!" he said. "Let him finish!" said Mrs. Malplaquet, and there was a certain ominous quietness in her tone that startled Desmond. As for Bellward, he remained silent, with arms folded, listening very intently.
He was rather vague, spoke about a vitally important mission that he had had to fulfil but which he had now brought to a successful conclusion, so that he was at length free to devote his whole attention once more to the great task in hand. Behrend brought his fist crashing down on the arm of the settee. "Words, words," he cried, "it won't do for me. Isn't there a man in the room besides me?
Laennec, Merat, and many other writers have mentioned death caused by the entrance of vomited materials into the air-passages. Parrot has observed a child who died by the penetration of chyme into the air-passages. The bronchial mucous and underlying membrane were already in a process of digestion. Behrend, Piegu, and others cite analogous instances.
To expend our energies in collecting information at half a dozen different ports of war will be waste of time. The direction of the whole of this enterprise lies in the hands of one man at the Admiralty." Behrend, who had struck Desmond as a rather taciturn young man, shook his head dubiously. "That makes things very difficult," he remarked. "Wait," replied Mortimer.
"If you will all sit down," he said, "we'll get down to business." Despite all distractions, Desmond had been watching for this summons. He had marked down for himself a chair close to the door. For this he now made, after escorting Mrs. Malplaquet to the settee where she sat down beside Behrend.
And I shall tell him so tonight. And so will No. 13! And so will young Behrend! You ought to hear Behrend about it!" Mrs. Malplaquet began to interest Desmond. She was obviously a woman of refinement, and he was surprised to find her in this odd company. By dint of careful questioning, he ascertained the fact that she lived in London, at a house on Campden Hill.
The corporal found time to have another shot and laid out a tall, odd-looking man..." "No. 13," elucidated Desmond. "... When we got inside we found him dead across the threshold of the door leading into the hall. Behrend we caught hiding in a brush cupboard by the back stairs. As for the others " "Gone?" queried Desmond with a sudden sinking at his heart. Francis nodded.
"I agree, it is very difficult, the more so as I have reason to believe that the authorities have discovered the existence of our organization." Mrs. Malplaquet and Behrend turned to one another simultaneously. "What did I say?" said Behrend. "I told you so," said the lady. "Therefore," Mortimer resumed, "our former activities on the coast will practically be paralyzed.
Every one of us in this room, with the exception of the traitor who is amongst us" he pointed a finger in denunciation at Desmond "is in the most imminent peril as long as we stay here. The rest of you can please yourselves. I'm off!" He turned and pressed the spring. The book shelves swung open. Behrend sprang forward. "Not so fast," he cried.
Behrend observed an opium exanthem, which was attended by intolerable itching, after the exhibition of a quarter of a grain. It was seen on the chest, on the inner surfaces of the arms, on the flexor surfaces of the forearms and wrists, on the thighs, and posterior and inner surfaces of the legs, terminating at the ankles in a stripe-like discoloration about the breadth of three fingers.
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