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It was open and, what was better, it opened inward. Also, it was of steel with a stout brass ring on the lock, this ring taking the place of what on a landsman's door would have been a knob. Terence Reardon and Michael J. Murphy listened. From within came a medley of gentle sighs, snores and the slow, regular breathing of sleeping men. Softly Mr.
An hour later the man kept his appointment. Having brought him into the study, Reardon said: 'I wish to sell everything in this flat, with a few exceptions that I'll point out to you'. 'Very good, sir, was the reply. 'Let's have a look through the rooms. That the price offered would be strictly a minimum Reardon knew well enough.
He was a conservative Republican and a Congregationalist, and on his desk he kept three silver-framed photographs one of his wife and two children, one of his dog Rover, and one of his architectural masterpiece, the mansion of Peter B. Reardon, the copper king of Montana. Mr.
This was after, at my suggestion to Mr Reardon, he had been sent out in one of the boats to board a big junk, and from that time it became a matter of course that when a boat was piped away, Ching's pigtail was seen flying out nearly horizontally in his eagerness to be first in the stern-sheets. But it was always the same.
"Be quiet, Tanner!" cried Smith; "he knows something. Now, then, Gnat: what does Ching say?" "That we shall never catch the pirates, because they won't come out when the gunboat is here." "Well, there's something in that. Tell Mr Reardon." "Is it worth while? He says we ought to arm a couple of junks, and wait for the pirates to come out and attack us."
I have lived in an ideal world that was not deceitful, a world which seems to me, when I recall it, beyond the human sphere, bathed in diviner light. It was four or five days after this that Reardon, on going to his work in City Road, found a note from Carter. It requested him to call at the main hospital at half-past eleven the next morning.
Down in the engine room the indomitable Terence Reardon, with one hand on the throttle and one eye on the steam gauge, put the Costa Rica under a dead-slow bell; she seemed scarcely to move, yet she had sufficient steerage way to enable Cappy to keep her pointed in the general direction of the submarine, the commander of which, seeing the crew of the Costa Rica scurrying for the boats, contented himself with sending over half a dozen shells for the purpose of hurrying them along; then he ceased firing, and when the boats pulled out from the ship in tow of a motor lifeboat and his powerful glasses showed neither guns nor sign of life upon the Costa Rica's decks, he did exactly what Cappy Ricks figured he would do.
"What do you expect from a German, sir?" Murphy demanded. "Frightfulness is his middle name." "I mean you two and your language. Stop it! You'll contaminate me." "Well, sor," Terence Reardon replied philosophically, "I suppose there's small use cryin' over spilt milk musha, what are they up to now?" "They're dragging a collapsible boat up from below," Mike Murphy declared.
They went along the brook to the road, passed up the road to a point some way above the dam, when Tim Reardon presently disappeared in a clump of bushes; from this he soon emerged, with his bamboo fish-pole. They went down through the field to the shore. Jointing up the rod and affixing the reel, Tim Reardon ran out his line, tied on the bright spoon-hook and began trolling.
What's the use of holding that glass to your eye if you can't see anything? Anything to report, I say?" "Yes, sir," I cried breathlessly, and with my heart throbbing heavily, "the junk has run up a little pennon to her mast-head." "She has?" cried Mr Reardon excitedly, and he raised his own glass. "Yes, you're right. Well done, Herrick! There, sir, I told you the lad was right."
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