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"We are not alone," I whispered. "Some one is over there on the lounge." Sinclair had already bounded across the room. I pressed hurriedly behind him, and together we rounded the screen and came upon the recumbent figure of Mr. Armstrong, asleep on the lounge, with his paper fallen from his hand. "That accounts for the lights being turned out," grumbled Sinclair. "Dutton must have done it."
A single woman staying alone at a hotel sounds dreadful improper to me. Robert would never allow me to do such a thing, never for a minute. And nobody even knows what she's gone for." But Annabel Sinclair thought she knew. "I shouldn't wonder," she told Diantha, "if when Persis Dale gets back we'd see startling changes." Her confidential tone was balm to Diantha's spirit.
A body of Hepburn's regiment, under Major Sinclair, rushed forward and drove in the Imperialists, a lieutenant colonel and a captain being captured. So hotly did they press the Imperialists that they were able to make a lodgment, on some high ground near the rampart, on which stood an old churchyard surrounded by a wall, and whence their fire could sweep the enemy's works.
"That, perhaps, I may be tired of waiting myself," replied Mary, with a smile. "Upon that chance, then, I will live in hope," replied Captain Sinclair; "if you will only reward me when you consider that my faithful service demands it, I will serve as long as Jacob did for Rachel."
"I had no such intention; but still, if I have to choose between you and the service, I shall not hesitate." "I trust you will not hesitate, but determine to adhere steadily to your profession for the present, Captain Sinclair.
The confession was delightfully vivid in the plentitude of his candour it was plain that he didn't care who knew that he was sorry he was not the editor. "In journalistic parlance the sub-editor," he added. "Will you be seated, Miss Howe?" and with a tasteful silk pocket handkerchief he whisked the bottom of a chair for her. "Then you are Mr. Molyneux Sinclair," Hilda declared.
In handling a wreck Sinclair was a marvel among mountain men. He was tall but not stout, with flashing brown eyes and a strength always equal to that of the best man in his crew. But his inspiration lay in destruction, and the more complete the better.
An awkward silence followed, and Lois felt that there was something of a private nature which these people were discussing, and that she had interrupted their conversation. Jasper, who had risen to his feet as Lois entered the room, divined the thoughts which were passing through her mind, and came to her assistance. "Let Miss Sinclair see the letter, Mrs. Bean," he suggested.
The great parabolic head-light illuminated the track a long way in advance, all behind it being of course in darkness. Suddenly Sinclair cried out: "The fools have a light there, as I am a living man; and there is a little red one near us. What can that be? All ready, Jack! By heaven! they have taken up two rails. Now hold on, all! The engine-driver shut his throttle-valve with a jerk.
He will keep on up this way until she gets too small to travel in and then will hit off somewhere else. You other fellers keep behind." They began a slow, painstaking course up the stream and began to fear they had been mistaken in their surmise, when Sinclair gave a shout. He had found the trail again, a telltale footprint with the patched sole.
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