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He ran upstairs, and found Kinch and Caddy busy putting on more water, they having exhausted one kettle-full into which they had put two or three pounds of cayenne pepper on the heads of the crowd below. "We gave 'em a settler, didn't we, Mr. Walters?" asked Caddy, as he entered the room. "It takes us; we fight with hot water. This," said she, holding up a dipper, "is my gun.
"Walters, you rascal, light Sir Rowland to the door." Poor Blake went home deeply vexed; but it was no more than the beginning of his humiliation at Mr. Wilding's hands for what can be more humiliating to a quarrel seeking man than to have his enemy refuse to treat him seriously? He and Mr.
He turned to deliver hat and whip and gloves to Walters, who had followed him, then closed the door and came forward into the room. "You will forgive that I present myself thus before you," he said, in apology for his dusty raiment. "But I bethought me you might be in haste, and Walters tells me that already have you waited nigh upon an hour. Will you not sit, madam?" And he advanced a chair.
They all talked it over for a while, and the coroner decided that there would be no need for any inquest, and the doctor wrote out the certificate. That was all there was to it." Rand looked at the section of pistol-rack devoted to Colts. "Which one was it?" he asked. "Oh it's not here, sir," Walters replied. "The coroner took it away with him." "And hasn't returned it yet?
By this time Walters had pretty well cleared himself from the line tangled about his leg, and he stood looking on and scowling at me in turn as I removed the straightened hook, and put on another from the spare ones with which Jarette had furnished me.
I may as well tell you, Mr. and Mrs. Walters, that he was found dead in Middle Temple Lane this morning, at a quarter to three; that there wasn't anything on him but his clothes and a scrap of paper which bore this gentleman's name and address; that this gentleman knows nothing whatever of him, and that I traced him here because he bought a cap at a West End hatter's yesterday, and had it sent to your hotel."
The young man is not, like Helena, "very dark, and fierce of look, . . . of almost the gipsy type." He is blonde, sedate, and of the classic type, as Drood was. He is no more like Helena than Crisparkle is like Durdles. Mr. Cuming Walters says that Mr. Proctor was "unable to allude to the prophetic picture by Collins." As a fact, this picture is fully described by Mr. Proctor, but Mr.
Milton's State Papers, 39, 47, 50, 57. One of these agents employed by both parties was a Mrs. Walters, alias Hamlin, on whose services Bishop placed great reliance. She was to introduce herself to Cromwell by pronouncing the word "prosperity." that the plans of the royalists were always discovered, and by that means defeated by the precautions of the council.
"No, but Walters, in whom I placed the most implicit confidence, assured me that he placed them here with his own hands. He may, however, have destroyed them, and anticipated my wishes." "And you, with all your caution," sneered Dinah North, "could trust an affair of such importance to another."
It was so dark that I could not make out who it was till he walked aft not very far from where I stood, and a few moments later I saw who it was, for his figure came between my eyes and the glow from the cabin-windows. "Why, it was Walters," I said to myself, and then I began to wonder more and more what it all meant.
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