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He saw Professor Bolton walk through the flickering half-light to join Myra Thornhill and Kendrick. It must be half past by now. Yes from far below in the valley came the whistle of a train. Now she was boarding it. She and the money. Boarding it for where? For what purpose? Again the train whistled. "The siege," remarked Mr. Magee, "is more than half over, ladies and gentlemen."
Max's operations were mostly hidden by the desk at which, in summer, timid old ladies inquired for their mail. Having time to think, Mr. Magee pictured the horror of those ladies could they come up to the desk at Baldpate now. Suddenly Mr. Max ran out into the center of the office. Almost on the instant there was a white puff of smoke and a roar.
"I haven't time to argue with you," said the holder of the seventh key. His voice was cold, calculating, harsh. "Get out of my way and let me pass. Or " "Or what?" asked Billy Magee. He watched the man lunge toward him in the moonlight. He saw the fist that had the night before been the Waterloo of Mr. Max and the mayor start on a swift true course for his head.
'That package you have in your hand, Peters, he says, 'belongs to me. I put it in cold storage so it would keep. I'll take it now. Well, Mr. Magee, I'm a peaceful man. I could have battered that professor into a learned sort of jelly if I'd wanted to. But I'm a great admirer of Mr. Carnegie, on account of the library, and I go in for peace. I knew it wasn't exactly the thing, but "
Hayden," remarked Magee, "are we to hear from you?" Hayden hesitated, and looked for a moment into the black eyes of Myra Thornhill. "My idea has often been contradicted," he said, keeping his gaze on the girl, "it may be again.
Thomas Magee, the cashier of the Cambria Iron Company's general stores, tells a thrilling story of the manner in which he and his fellow clerks escaped from the waters themselves, saved the money drawers and rescued the lives of nineteen other people during the progress of the flood. He says: It was 4.15 o'clock when the flood struck our building with a crash.
It was Archbishop Magee who, when Bishop of Peterborough, encountered a drunken navvy one day as he was walking through the poorer quarters of that town. The navvy staggered out of a public-house, diffusing a powerful aroma of gin all round him; when he saw his Chief Pastor he raised his hand in a gesture of mock benediction and called jeeringly to the Bishop, "The Lord be with you!"
Now it happens that there is a trap-door in the floor of the card-room, up which drinks are frequently passed from the cellar. Isn't that exciting? A hotel clerk who became human once in my presence told me all about it. If you went into the cellar and hunted about, you might find that door and climb up into the card-room." "A bully idea," agreed Mr. Magee. "I'll hurry down there this minute.
That's yer churches fer yeh!" And still Tommy remained silent. "An' if yeh want to knew more about him, you ask Magee there, an' Morrison an' Old Cap Jim an' a 'eap of fellows about this 'ere preacher, an' 'ear 'em talk. Don't ask me. 'Ear 'em talk w'en they git time. They wuz a blawsted lot of drunken fools, workin' for the whiskey-sellers an' the tin-horn gamblers.
Then they tried a Professor Dougherty, of Londonderry, another Home Rule Presbyterian; for there are a few, though you could count them off on your fingers, and they are a hundred times outnumbered by the Conservative Catholics. He belonged to Magee College, and we trotted out the whole of his co-professors against him.
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