United States or Timor-Leste ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Lalkhan returned, bearing a salver, and laid on the salver was one of Jan's lavender bags. He presented it solemnly to his master, who with almost equal solemnity handed it to Mrs. Crosbie. "There!" she said. "Of course I knew I couldn't be mistaken. Now where did you get it?" "It was, I suppose, put among the things when poor Mrs. Tancred had the flat.
Even without the confession he ultimately made, Jan's tracking, the man's own empty leather sheath fitting the dagger he had left behind him, and the watch, money, and rings found in his pockets, and proved to be the property of the murdered couple, would have been sufficient to condemn the Italian. It appeared that the primary motive of the crime had not been theft, but jealousy.
He thought William had found him, and knowing that he could not fight nor defend himself, he dragged himself wearily to his feet and staggered with trembling legs a few, short steps. Then he dropped heavily. Voices sounded. Jan's ears lifted and quivered, his eyes brightened and his tail moved slightly. He was not afraid of children. They had always loved and petted him.
Those among the men who had wagered heavily against him felt a misgiving. There was something in Jan's smile that was more than coolness, and it was not bravado. Even as he smiled ashore, and spoke in low Cree to Jackpine, he felt at the belt that he had hidden under the caribou-skin coat. There were two sheaths there, and two knives, exactly alike.
The baker was kind, but he had said that "it was an ackerd thing for a boy to quarrel with's parents." Jan felt that he expected him to go home. Perhaps at this moment the baker had gone, with the best intentions, to fetch the Cheap Jack, and bring about a family reunion. Terror had become an abiding state of Jan's mind, and it seized him afresh, like a palsy.
After that there was peace; Fish and Pad were too busy in dressing their wounds to notice the loss of their bones; and Jan was free to introduce himself to the others of the pack, which he did in friendly fashion enough, despite his still raised hackles and rather noticeably stiff gait. There was quite a gathering assembled next morning to see the last of Jan's new masters.
Sourdough, like his master, was dour, morose, forbidding, and a confirmed solitary. He was also a singularly ugly and unattractive creature, whom no man had ever seen at play. But prior to Jan's arrival he had been the unquestioned chief and master among R.N.W.M.P. dogs.
Meg's eyes, those curious eyes with the large pupil and blue iris flecked with brown, were very bright, her voice was earnest, and when it ceased it left a sense of tension in the very air. Jan put out her hand across the table, and Meg, releasing her sharp little chin, clasped it with hers. "So that's settled," Meg announced triumphantly. "No." Jan's voice was husky but firm. "It's not settled.
Much good he will do!" returned Lady Verner, in so contemptuous a tone as to prove she had no very exalted opinion of Mr. "Jan's" abilities. Lionel went out to the carriage, and stepped in. The footman did not shut the door. "And Miss Verner, sir?" "Miss Verner is not coming. The railway station. Tell Wigham to drive fast, or I shall be late."
But one morning, when the sun was shining down with the first promising warmth of spring, the woman stepped hack from the door and asked him in. "I want to tell you something, Jan," she said softly. "I have been thinking about it for a long time. I must find some work to do. I must do something to earn money." Jan's eyes leaped straight to hers in sudden horror. "Work!"
Word Of The Day