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There was a noise heard before the man himself came out, and the wench was dead before her mistress came in. However, Cluff was immediately apprehended, and at the ensuing sessions at the Old Bailey he was indicted for the murder of Mary Green, by giving her a mortal wound in the right thigh, of the breadth of one inch, and of the depth of five inches, of which she instantly died.
Half a dozen peons were struggling with Cluff across the bodies of as many more whom he had knocked down. Sherwen, almost under the cavalryman's mount, was protecting his rear with the fallen Galpy's cricket bat, and the two other cricketers were fighting back to back on the other side. Carroll was clubbing his way toward Mr. Brewster, but his weapon was now in his left hand.
To say that the leader went down would be absurdly inadequate. He simply crumpled. Over and over he rolled on the cobbles, while the smirched flag flew clear of his grasp, and fell on the farther sidewalk. "Wow!" yelled Cluff, leaping into the air. "Football! That cost him a couple of ribs. Hey, Rube!" And he rushed for the stairs, followed by Carroll, Sherwen, and, only one jump behind, Mr.
Carroll," advised Cluff, his good- natured face clouding. "We're all a little het up. Let's have a drink, and cool down." "With you, with pleasure. I shall hope to meet you later, Mr. Perkins," he added significantly. "Well, I hope not," retorted the other. "My voice is still for peace. Meantime, please assure Miss Brewster for me " "I warned you to keep that lady's name from your lips."
The Life of JAMES CLUFF, a Murderer, in which is contained a concise account of the nature of Appeals
I explained about Cluff; that he was a very good fellow, but of a different class, and probably wouldn't give the thing another thought." "And Mr. Perkins?" "Von Plaanden wanted to challenge him, if he could find him. I suggested that he leave me to deal with Mr. Perkins. After some discussion, he agreed." "Oh! And what are you going to do with him?" "Find him first, if I can."
Carroll jumped forward, but Sherwen was equally quick. He interposed his slight frame. "Perkins is right," he said decisively. "No shooting. It would be worth the life of every one here. We've got to stand it. But somebody is going to sweat blood for this day's work!" The instinct of discipline, characteristic of the professional athlete, brought Cluff to his support. "What Mr.
"Let that go for the moment. Do you know Miss Brewster's insulter?" "No." "Are you telling me the truth?" asked the Southerner sternly. The begoggled one's chin jerked up. To the trained eye of Cluff, swift to interpret physical indications, it seemed that Perkins's weight had almost imperceptibly shifted its center of gravity.
He yanked the chauffeur's head out over the side of the car, struck him one open-handed slap that was like an earnest cluff from a sizable bear, lifted again and banged the man's face down on the controls on his wheels, then pushed him back into his seat, limp and disheveled, all the insolent defiance knocked out of him.
To their open and obvious delight, exhibited jauntily by the Englishman, with awkward and admiring respectfulness by the ball- player, and with graceful ease by the handsome Caracunan, the rest were invited to join the party. "Don't let them scare you about plague, Miss Brewster," said Cluff, as they found their chairs. "Foreigners don't get it much." "Oh, I'm not afraid!
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