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She had seen Langhorne, and, although she did not say much about the result of the interview, I felt sure that it had resulted in a further estrangement between them, perhaps a suspicion on the part of Langhorne that Carton had been responsible for it. In as tactful a way as possible, Miss Ashton had also warned Mrs.
Carton nodded and sent his stenographer to get a new one. "Just a minute, please," cut in Kennedy. "Mr. Carton will be here in a few moments, now." Carton took the telephone and placed his hand over it, until, with a nod from Kennedy as he affixed the machine, he answered. "Yes this is the District Attorney," we heard him answer. "What? Rubano? Why you can't talk to him. He's a convicted man.
"Well, then," I put in hastily, "can't you approach him or someone close to him, and get " "Say," interrupted Carton, "anything that took place in that private dining-room at Gastron's would be just as likely to incriminate Langhorne and some of his crowd as not. It is a difference in degree of graft that is all. They don't want an open fight. It was just a piece of finesse on Langhorne's part.
And, after I had tried to reason it all out, I still found myself back at the original question, as I rejoined Kennedy at the laboratory, "Where had they all where had Betty Blackwell gone?" I had scarcely finished pouring out my suspicions to Kennedy when the telephone rang. It was Carton on the wire, in a state of unsuppressed excitement.
There were so many things to think of thrusting themselves into one's attention that I could follow none consistently. First I found myself wondering about Carton and Miss Ashton. Before I knew it I was delivering a snap judgment on whether the uptown residence district returns would be large enough to overcome the hostile downtown vote.
He may send his answer by some beggar; or in a carton brought by an honest man, who does not suspect what he brings; or in some parcel of shoes, which a shop-girl may innocently deliver to my wife. If Clemence and he have agreed upon such means " He distrusted all things; his mind ran over vast tracts and shoreless oceans of conjecture.
I suppose they remember they had one experience with the portrait parle and it has made them as wary as a burglar is over finger-prints. Carton tells me that Marie has disappeared." "I could swear I heard her or someone at Margot's," said Clare. "And Harris has disappeared. Of course you thought you overheard him, too. But you may have been mistaken." "Why?"
It turned me weak, as I was passed on from hand to hand to the stern of the boat: every hand patting me or grasping me in some way or other, in the moment of my going by. "Hold up, my brave fellow," says Captain Carton, clapping me on the shoulder like a friend, and giving me a flask. "Put your lips to that, and they'll be red again. Now, boys, give way!"
Just before reaching the steepest pitch of the ridge, where it sweeps up in a cock's comb, we came upon the vestiges of a camp made by our predecessors of a year before, in a hollow dug in the snow an empty biscuit carton and a raisin package, some trash and brown paper and discolored snow as fresh as though they had been left yesterday instead of a year ago.
Well, this day three weeks, a party at Carton, for Mrs. Sarratt. Will that give her time to settle down? 'Unless her husband is killed by then, said Captain Marsworth, quietly. 'His regiment is close to Loos. He'll be in the thick of it directly. 'Oh no, said Cicely, twisting the ends of her veil lightly between a finger and thumb.
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