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I know the way perfectly well. Good night, Blundell." "Good night, Waterman." It was a fairly bright night, although a few clouds hung in the sky. Tom heard approaching footsteps, and then hid himself in a sharp corner of the trench while Waterman passed him. Tom followed noiselessly, all the time keeping out of sight of the man he watched.
Only a couple of minutes before, he had been discussing plans with Waterman, who had urged him to be more than ordinarily careful in carrying out the instructions from Headquarters, and yet here he was accused of communicating with the enemy, and seen by a trustworthy soldier to throw a missile towards the enemy's lines. "Where is Pollard?" asked Major Blundell, for Tom had disappeared.
His face was smooth and unwrinkled, as the faces of prosperous and self-satisfied persons sometimes are, even after sixty, which was the age Sir Timothy had attained. Dr. Blundell, who sat opposite his patient, was neither prosperous nor self-satisfied.
They had got within some thirty yards of Roneys when, between them and the object of their attack, out of Simpson street, which at this point crosses Blundell Street at right angles, there intervened the head of a column of police, under the Liverpool Chief Constable, an Irishman, Michael James Whitty.
She had removed all traces of tears from her face, and, though she was still very pale, she was quite composed, and ready to smile at them both. "Were you coming to fetch me?" she said, taking Sarah's arm affectionately. "Dr. Blundell, I am afraid luncheon will be terribly late. The servants have all gone off their heads in the confusion, as was to be expected.
Her sole recompense was the dismay of her father, and for his benefit she dwelt upon the advantages of the Army in a manner that would have made the fortune of a recruiting- sergeant. "She's just crazy after the soldiers," he said to Mr. Blundell, whom he was trying to spur on to a desperate effort. "I've been watching her close, and I can see what it is now; she's romantic.
Blundell, who knew his Venia by heart. "You always seem to be able to think of objections," complained Mr. Turnbull; "I've noticed that in you before." "I'd go in fast enough if there was anybody there," said Blundell. "I'm not much of a swimmer, but " "All the better," interrupted the other; "that would make it all the more daring."
"He's gone to secure the paper he saw Captain Waterman throw," was Penrose's reply. A second later Major Blundell was leaning over the sand-bags, looking across the "No-man's-Land" towards the enemy's trenches. By this time a number of other men had gathered; as if by magic the news had flown, and for a moment even discipline was in abeyance.
Parallel to Crosbie Street, where the club room was situated, was Blundell Street, where my uncle, Hughey Roney, lived in a house immediately behind McArdle's the back door of the one house facing the back door of the other. This side of the street, with the whole of Crosbie Street, has long since been absorbed by the railway company before mentioned.
He is pleased to think Peter may require skilled medical attendance; and, since he wrote he was in rags, a new outfit. These, it seems, can only be obtained in the Metropolis nowadays. My brother's tailor still lives in Exeter; and with all his faults and nobody can dislike him more than I do I have never heard it denied that Dr. Blundell is a skilful apothecary."
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