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Up flew Dick, and clapping his hand on the left breast-pocket, out came a dozen pink notes tied up with a blue ribbon, and much the worse for wear. He hastily turned them over as Dolly went on. "Yes, I did it, for she didn't know how to answer your notes, and came to me.
Dunbar's card-case had been found in the breast-pocket of his overcoat, and a great many people in the waiting-room knew that the gentleman with the white lace and grey moustache, lying so quietly upon one of the broad sofas, was no less a personage than Henry Dunbar, of Maudesley Abbey and St. Gundolph Lane.
Von Schwerin entered, with a smiling face. "Have you accomplished what I confided to you?" With a profound bow Von Schwerin drew a roll of paper from his breast-pocket, and handed it to the king, saying, "I am so fortunate as to have accomplished your commands." "Will Count Schmettau give up the villa at once?"
I referred to it; whereupon Ambler Jevons drew from his breast-pocket two photographs, and, holding them before the eyes of the trembling old man, said: "You recognise these? For a long time past I've been making inquiries into your keen interest in amateur theatricals.
Well, here foine gless!" he swept all his spectacles together, and put them back into his coat-pockets, whilst from a breast-pocket he produced a great number of larger and smaller perspectives.
He was aroused from his wonder and wild conjecture by the voice of George Wick. "What bes the trouble, sir?" called the fisherman, who was busy fending the bully off the rocks. "Who bes it, anyhow? It bain't no friend o' yerself, sir, surely?" Darling shut the casket and slipped it into an inner breast-pocket of his reefer.
He spotted you in North Street yesterday, and seemed wonderfully disappointed to find you had nothing whatever to do with this institution." "If he is not asleep," Bell suggested, "and you have no objection " Cross nodded and opened the gate. Before passing inside Bell took the rolled-up Rembrandt from his deep breast-pocket and handed it to David. "Take care of this for me," he whispered.
"Well," he said, "if you've been bold enough to do this in face of the gossip, then you're a much cleverer man than ever I took you to be." For answer, Flockart took some letters from his breast-pocket, selected one written in a foreign hand, and gave it to Krail to read.
"Read that letter!" "I care for none but the one you left me. I have read and reread it, Yerba carried it always with me. See! I have it here!" He was in the act of withdrawing it from his breast-pocket, when she put up her hand piteously. "Please, Paul, please read this letter first!"
"You have, perhaps, a photograph of the young lady in that card-case in your breast-pocket." Wethermill flushed red, and, drawing out the card-case, handed the portrait to Hanaud. Hanaud looked at it carefully for a few moments. "It was taken lately, here?" he asked. "Yes; for me," replied Wethermill quietly. "And it is a good likeness?" "Very." "How long have you known this Mlle.
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