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De Peyster. "Yes. Give you, both of you, what money you need." "And and when Mrs. De Peyster comes back?" Young Mr. Pyecroft chortled with delight. "Say, this scheme's the best ever! The day we learn Mrs.
Then on the bridge semaphore itself: "Have been trying to attract your attention last half hour. Send commanding officer aboard at once." "Our attention? After all the attention we've given 'er, too," said Pyecroft. "What a greedy old woman!" To Moorshed: "Signal from the Cryptic, Sir." "Never mind that!" said the boy, peering through his glasses. "Our dinghy quick, or they'll paint our marks out.
'To resoom the post-mortem, said Pyecroft, lighting his pipe. 'My slumbers were broken by the propeller ceasing to revolve, and by vile language from your Mr. Leggatt. 'I I Leggatt began, a blue-checked duster in one hand and a cup in the other. 'When you're wanted aft you'll be sent for, Mr. Leggatt, said Pyecroft amiably. 'It's clean mess decks for you now.
"I supposed Matilda had already told you that," said Jack. "Ah, so that is why you are here in hiding," said Mr. Pyecroft, very softly, chiefly to himself; and his eyes had another momentary flash, only brighter than any heretofore, and his mouth twitched upward, and he pleasantly rubbed his hands. At that moment, from the stairway, came the sound of descending steps.
"The one who lives in Syracuse?" "Yes; and she is indisposed," said Mr. Pyecroft. "Our sister Angelica Simpson Jones," he elaborated. "Matilda is the eldest, I am the youngest; there are just us three children." "And might I ask, Matilda, without intending discourtesy," said Jack, eyeing Mr. Pyecroft with disfavor, "how long your brother and sister intend to remain?"
They were stun'sles. That shows the beggar's no sailor. That trick was really the one thing we did. Pho! I thought he was a sailorman, an' 'e hasn't sense enough to see what extemporisin' eleven good an' drawin' sails out o' four trys'les an' a few awnin's means. 'E must have been drunk!" "Never mind, Mr. Pyecroft. I want to hear about your target-practice, and the execution." "Oh!
"Any luck?" said Moorshed politely. "Not till we met yeou," was the answer. "The Lard he saved us from they big ships to be spitted by the little wan. Where be'e gwine tu with our fine new bobstay?" "Yah! You've had time to splice it by now," said Pyecroft with contempt. "Aie; but we'm all crushed to port like aigs. You was runnin' twenty-seven knots, us reckoned it. Didn't us, Albert?"
"I have yet to learn," interrupted the colonel, with the same deadly deliberation, "what right HE or ANYBODY had to intimate that he held such a relationship with me. Am I to understand, sir, that he er publicly boasted of it?" "Don't know!" resumed Pyecroft hastily; "but it don't matter, for if he wasn't a friend it only makes the joke bigger.
"'As 'e got any-thin' in about my 'orrible death an' execution? Excuse me, but if I open my eyes, I shan't be well. That's where I'm different from all other men. Ahem!" "What about Glass's execution?" demanded Pyecroft. "The book's in French," I replied. "Then it's no good to me." "Precisely. Now I want you to tell your story just as it happened. I'll check it by this book. Take a cigar.
A 'undred an' forty feet, which is our len'th into two 'undred and ten, which is about the Gnome's, leaves seventy feet over, which we haven't got." "Is this all your own notion, Mr. Pyecroft?" I asked. "In spots, you might say yes; though we all contributed to make up deficiencies. But Mr.
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