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And now that you are here . It was kind of you to come here." Lincoln laid his hand on Graham's shoulder. Abruptly Graham realised the enormity of his blunder in coming to the Council House. He turned towards the curtains that separated the hall from the ante-chamber. The clutching hand of Asano intervened. In another moment Lincoln had grasped Graham's cloak.
As I bent over the stiff, cold figure with its livid face and clutching fingers, I felt a difficulty which I had hitherto resolutely shirked forcing itself squarely into the forefront of my mind. What was I going to do about the body? At that moment came a low knocking. With a sudden sinking at the heart I remembered I had forgotten to lock the door. Here was Destiny knocking at the door.
They who have seen wild creatures die will have her before them, saving the fiery eyes. She became an ashen- colour, I took her little hand. Unconscious of me, her brown fingers clutching at mine, she flung up her nostrils, craving air. This was the picture of the woman who could not weep in her misery. 'Kiomi, old friend! I called to her.
Yet when I got there, with the intention of inducing them to make it up, I found them, though one did not expect it, in each other's company, confessing their faults, and laughing and chatting. Just like a yellow eagle clutching the feet of a kite were those two hanging on to each other. So where was the necessity for any one to go?" These words evoked laughter from every one in the room.
Then I was amazed to feel my legs giving way under me; I stretched forth my arms in an instinctive attempt to steady myself, and, clutching at empty air, fell heavily forward on to the stone floor. When I came to myself, I saw a kind, motherly face bending over me, and was aware of a hot taste in my mouth. "Are you better now?" said the lady, in tones the like of which I had seldom heard.
"Rather difficult to discover it amidst all these weapons, Mr. Morley. Good heavens! what is the matter?" He might well ask. His host was clutching his arm in a vice-like hold, and was pointing to a certain part of the wall whereon hung a pair of ancient pistols, a crusader's shield, and an old helmet. "The stiletto was there. It is gone!" gasped Morley. "Impossible. Who can have taken it?"
"No, no, I'm not ill; I'm only tired," she sobbed, clutching at him with her two hands, and swaying where she stood. He took her in his arms and half dragged, half carried her from the room. On the narrow stairs they paused. "Let me go alone," she whispered.
"I believe the Clutching Hand has been shadowing the Dodge house," he continued thoughtfully. "As long as we watch the place, too, he will do nothing. But if we should seem, ostentatiously, not to be watching, perhaps he may try something, and we may be able to get a clue to his identity over this vocaphone. See?" I nodded. "We've got to run him down somehow," I agreed.
Big Ivan took up the earthenware pot, carried it to the table, and spilled its contents upon the well-scrubbed boards. He counted while Anna stood beside him, her fingers clutching his coarse blouse. It was a slow business, because Ivan's big blunt fingers were not used to such work, but it was over at last.
In the West she saw boats, trains, hotels, inner cabins, middle seats, back bedrooms; felt women, mothers, and wives clutching their mankind so as to keep them from the pariah, the penniless, pretty companion; heard the clink of the five or ten shillings a week paid monthly in silver, and all this to be repeated over and over again until she died, unless she married a man she did not love and "settled down" for ever and ever and ever; though even this possibility seemed to have receded into the remote distance with the receding of her fortune.
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