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"I really beg pardon for intruding," she said, with a slight cough, "but I thought perhaps I might throw light on the matter Mr. Lynx is investigating." "Well?" said the detective, eying her attentively. "I had occasion to go into Ben's room to see if the girl had put things in order, when my attention was drawn to a ticket upon the bureau.
She got up in silence and took a key from her pocket and moved toward a small bureau between the windows. She unlocked the lower drawer and took out a packet of papers, and in the middle of this packet was an envelope in which lay the key of the room upstairs. Her movements were slow but unhesitating, and when she left the room Mark had not the slightest idea of what she would do.
Ten minutes more and the note was lying neglected on the bureau, and Angela stood at her window, gazing out over dreary miles of almost desert landscape, of rock and shale and sand and cactus, with eyes from which the light had fled, and a new, strange trouble biting at her girlish heart. Confound No. 4 and Norah Shaughnessy! It had been arranged that when the Plumes were ready to start, Mrs.
Precisely opposite the chimney was the bureau, flanked on one side by the door of the closet, and on the other in the corner of the room by the stationary washstand with its new cake of soap and its three clean, glossy towels.
I will see if I can have a talk to her maid, so that we may know whenever she is going out. There ought to be a man on a motor cycle always waiting about the Savoy to follow her wherever she goes." They parted at the entrance of the bureau, Saul Arthur Mann returning to telephone the necessary instructions. How necessary they were was proved that very night.
"F.M. Howard, of Beeville, Texas, wrote to the U.S. Bureau of Entomology, that the bob whites shot in his vicinity had their crops filled with the weevils. Another farmer reported his cotton fields full of quail, and an entire absence of weevils."
"The Bureau is a regular old woman for tittle-tattle. We listen to all sorts of gossip. Some of it is real news." "And, by jing, I was nearly omitting one bit of scandal," said Steingall. "It seems that Mick the Wolf and a fellow named Fowle met in a corner saloon round about One Hundred and Twelfth Street the night before last.
Gradually she was awakened by something penetrating her consciousness, something insistent, pervasive, unescapable, which in drowsiness she could not define. The gas was burning, Lise had come in, and was moving peculiarly about the room. Janet watched her. She stood in front of the bureau, just as Janet herself had done, her hands at her throat.
But, sir, is it necessary, or was it ever contemplated, that there should be an officer or agent of the Freedmen's Bureau in every county and every parish where refugees and freedmen are to be found? By no means. What is the bill upon that subject? Does it make it imperative upon the President to appoint an agent in each county and parish?
"It will be easier if I present myself. It will bear testimony that I am innocent of any wrong." "I will go in with you," determinedly. The police officer, or, to be more particular, the sub-chief of the bureau, received them with ill-concealed surprise. "I have learned that you are seeking me," said the vintner, taking off his cap. His yellow curls waved about his forehead in moist profusion.
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