United States or Guadeloupe ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"You're a person of observation, sir. Well, I've been in tighter corners than this thanks to you!" "Who is Mr. Cullen and what does he want?" I asked. "Mr. Cullen," my guest declared, sampling the fresh bottle of wine which had just been brought to him, "is one of those misguided individuals whose lack of faith in his fellows will bring him some time or other to a bad end.
"I don't know anything about Cullen," Tommy answered with a grin, "but I know that the man Katz is a false alarm. You should have seen him take to his heels last night, when the train robbers rushed through the camp. I'd like to know what he's in here for, anyway!" "That's the very thing I'm here to explain!" replied Johnson.
Cullen said "God bless you!" with real feeling; Frederic jumped up and slapped me on the shoulder, crying, "Gordon, you're the biggest old trump breathing;" while Albert and the captain shook hands with each other, in evident jubilation. Only Lord Ralles remained passive. "Have you breakfasted?" asked Mr. Cullen, when the first joy was over. "Yes," I said.
I went over to where she sat, and said, boldly "Miss Cullen, I want those letters." "What letters?" she asked, looking me in the eyes with the most innocent of expressions. She made a mistake to do that, for I knew her innocence must be feigned, and so didn't put much faith in her face for the rest of the interview.
A fish market was established; wood-yards, fruit and vegetable booths, a dispensary, and a general store where leather, cloths of various description, and furs were to be had by requisition. In speaking of the dispensary, Dr. Cullen complacently announced that the supply of medicine was limited, but that it was nothing to worry about.
How delightful!" even while she grew as red as she had been pale the moment before. Lord Ralles grew red too, but in a different way. "Have you caught the robbers?" cried Miss Cullen. "I'm afraid I have," I answered. "What do you mean?" she asked.
Leaving him the vials of digitalis and strychnine, therefore, I went back, and dined solus on my own car, indulging at the end in a cigar, the smoke of which would keep turning into pictures of Miss Cullen. I have thought about those pictures since then, and have concluded that when cigar-smoke behaves like that, a man might as well read his destiny in it, for it can mean only one thing.
"I would rather not say, Miss Cullen." "How unfair you are!" she cried. "You without the slightest reason you suddenly go out of your way to ill-treat insult me, and yet will not tell me the cause." That made me angry. "Cause?" I cried. "As if you didn't know of a cause! What you don't know is that I overheard your conversation with Lord Ralles night before last."
Joshua Higgins by name, a seaman by profession and pull, but a pot-wolloper by capacity, he was a loose-jointed, sniffling creature, heartless and selfish and cowardly, without a soul, in fear of his life of Dan Cullen, and a bully over the sailors, who knew that behind the mate was Captain Cullen, the lawgiver and compeller, the driver and the destroyer, the incarnation of a dozen bucko mates.
I've always noticed that a woman would rather have a man notice and praise her frock than her beauty, and Miss Cullen was apparently no exception, for I could see the remark pleased her. "Don't Western women ever get Eastern gowns?" she asked. "Any quantity," I said, "but you know, Miss Cullen, that it isn't the gown, but the way it's worn, that gives the artistic touch."
Word Of The Day