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The King stretched out his hand to them, which they kissed, falling on their knees and weeping, the King helping the aged bishop to rise. He then bade Hacker to open the door and he would follow; and he was conducted by Hacker, Tomlinson, and other officers and soldiers, through the banquetting house by a passage broken through the wall, where the centre window now is.
But, alas! a great disappointment to Paul's hope of assistance and companionship in his literary labours befell him. Mr. Augustus Tomlinson, one bright morning, disappeared, leaving word with his numerous friends that he was going to accept a lucrative situation in the North of England.
He had played his part in public places; and as Tomlinson was wont to say after his classic fashion, "the triumphs accomplished in the field had been planned in the ball-room."
Those who care about these things can get the book for themselves. Of Mr. Tomlinson in person: he is a London newspaperman, we understand, and now on the staff of the London Nation. Tomlinson says of himself: My life is like my portrait. It won't bear investigation.
All of a sudden he avoids me, shuts his door against me; Miss Brandon goes nowhere, and even if she did, what could I expect from her after this sudden change in the father?" Tomlinson looked blank and disconcerted. "But," said he, after a moment's silence, "why not put a good face on the matter, walk up to the squire, and ask him the reason of his unkindness?"
Tomlinson walked out with stately tread. His broad back was scarcely turned before the detective's nimble feet had carried him into the bedroom, which stood in the southeast angle. He seemed to fly around the room like one possessed of a fiend of unrest. Picking up a glass tumbler, he sniffed it and put it in a pocket.
Can he have a bedroom in the house?" "Certainly. Tomlinson will look after him. You are not going cityward, I suppose?" "No, sir. But if you care to have a seat in my car " "No, thanks. The train is quicker and takes me direct to London Bridge. Much obliged." Fenley hurried to the cloakroom, which was situated under the stairs, but on a lower level than the hall.
I would make a better livelihood off a rich fool than a landed estate." So saying, the contemplative and ever-sagacious Tomlinson tossed off his bumper; and the pair, having kindly rolled by pedal applications the body of Long Ned into a safe and quiet corner of the room, mounted the stairs, arm-in-arm, in search of somnambular accommodations.
Meanwhile Augustus Tomlinson, on finding himself surrounded by persons eager to gaze and to listen, broke from his moodiness and reserve.
'My private character has nothing whatever to do with my politics, he said, and had barely said it when he remembered having spoken somewhat differently, upon the abstract consideration of the case, to Mr. Tomlinson. 'You're quite welcome to examine my character for yourself, only I don't consent to be catechized. Understand that. 'You quite understand that, Mr.
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