United States or Luxembourg ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
It's worth two dollars, anyway, no matter what Durkin paid for it." "I suppose it is," granted Steve. "And it is comfortable. Look here; we'll have to have another one now, or we'll be scrapping to see who gets this!" "Not if we can find a cushion for the window-seat," said Tom. "We might see some more of those fellows you have on your list." "To-morrow," said Steve. "It's almost supper time.
Why had she weakened and surrendered, when he himself, the oldtime weakling of the two, had clung so desperately to the narrow path of rectitude? And what was the meaning and the direction of it all? And what would it lead to? But why, above all, had she kept silent, and given him no warning? Durkin looked up and listened to the soft rustling of the palm branches.
So her passenger list, which included, outside of Frank and Durkin, only a consumptive Welsh school-teacher and a broken-down clergyman from Birmingham, who kept always to his cabin, was in danger of no over-close scrutiny, either from the Neapolitan Guardie Municipali on the one hand, or from any private agents of Keenan and Penfield on the other.
It was both a warning and a challenge, grim with its suggestiveness, eloquent with careless defiance. That was her first thought. "The fool he's making fun of you!" said Durkin, with a second passionate oath. Frank was slowly refolding the papers, and replacing them in the envelope. "I don't believe that's it," she said, meditatively. "I believe he is trying me making this a test!"
A sound of voices floated out to them and MacNutt tightened his grip on the other's arm, as they stood and listened, for it was Frances Durkin and Keenan talking together, hurriedly, impetuously, earnestly. "But does it make any difference what I have been, or who I am?" the woman's voice was asking. "I did my part; I did my work for you. Now you ought to give me a chance!"
"Get out of there, you young cubs!" suddenly roared a voice, whose owner they could not see. "I'll l'arn ye to interfere with other folks' business. I'll give yer five minutes to shake ther dust of this hy'ar mounting off yer feet. If any of ye is here then, it'll be the worse for ye. This claim belongs to Ab Durkin. Now, mosey! D'ye hear?" Tad Butler did hear. And now he saw as well as heard.
Then she shuddered a little, involuntarily, for she had seen Durkin catch up one of his shoes, hammer-like, where it protruded from the side pocket of his coat and she knew only too well how he would make use of it. As Pobloff bent over her, unwarned, unsuspecting, almost wondering for what she was waiting with such confidently closed eyes, Durkin crossed the carpeted floor.
I met Durkin awhile ago and he got to talking about that shoe-blacking stand. Remember the note he left here that night?" Tom nodded. "Well, it came out that while he was putting it under our door Eric Sawyer walked out and fell over him." "Out of here?" "Right-o! Sawyer said he'd been waiting to see me. Now you remember I'd seen him coming out of Daley's room earlier, eh?
Deliberately drawing back his bowstring, the boy drove one of the heavy missiles that Walter had cut for him full into the evil face of Ab Durkin. They could hear the impact as the heavy stick landed. Ab toppled over backwards with a yell of rage. "That's our last shot." Tad threw down his bow, standing with folded arms calmly facing the enemy. "Hands up!" rang the stern command.
Durkin remembered, at that moment, that he was woefully hungry. He also remembered, more gratefully, that the young Chicagoan, the lonely and loquacious youth he had met the day before in the café of the "Terrasse," had asked him to take dinner with him, to view the splendor of "Ciro's" and a keeper of the vestiaire in scarlet breeches and silk stockings.
Word Of The Day