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I looked off at the piling thundercaps and the ruffling water, and the exhilaration of the coming storm whipped through me. There was a pleasant tang to life. "Read it, yes," I insisted. "You are Madame de Montlivet. No one can have a better right. Read it after we land." It took some moments to make a landing, for the waves were already high and the shore rough.
She hastily entered the vehicle and bade the driver keep in sight of the one her father was in until it came to a stop. The driver whipped up his horses, but there wasn't much speed in them. Kate dared not look out of the window, and sat in feverish anxiety while she was whirled along Pennsylvania Avenue, almost to the Baltimore Station, then the only one in the city connecting with the North.
Our trunk and bags were put in; we shook hands with Uncle Kelson, and having taken our seats just inside in the front part, with plenty of straw for our feet to rest on, the waggoner whipped up his four sturdy horses, and we began to move on. My dear wife pressed closer to my side, and we began to breathe more freely; she thought I was safe from the pressgang.
Wiley turned and fled, sick with rage at his own impotence, but as he whipped over the dump the earth opened up before him and he slipped and stopped on the brink of a chasm. It was the caved-in stope, the old glory-hole of the Paymaster, and it cut off his last escape.
But the Czar, who had found again his youth with his old friend of former times, and with his indestructible boyishness, liked practical jokes and dangers, whipped on the horses, whistled and shouted, "Let her go! Clear for action! Jump!" The toll-gate was burst clean open, and the old man laughed so that he swayed on the Czar's knees. And so they drove along the shore.
Then, stepping as softly as we could in our clumping rubber boots, our arms burdened with guns and wraps, we stole into the outer darkness. It was almost black, but we could dimly make out the treetops whipped about by the wind. Over by the stable we caught the intermittent flashes of many lanterns where the teamsters were feeding their stock.
"Drive me up the road and round Havelock Crescent, and see if we can find a gentleman running about in a velveteen coat and no hat." "Velveteen coat, ma'am, and no 'at. Very good, ma'am." And the cabman whipped up at once in the most matter-of-fact way, as if he drove to this address every day in his life.
"Let's make for Grace's," at length exclaimed one of the boatmen, and the other catching at the proposition, the head of the boat was whipped round in an instant, and away we sped through the glassy-surfaced water.
A violin was across the man's knee, a bow in his right hand. The man was down, whipped. The world had been too much for him. The face was not evil, nor was it mighty. A tall young man a figure knit with beauty and precision. It was the figure of a small man enlarged, rather than one of natural bulk.
There was a dull report, as of a shot fired at a great distance, the scream of Sally from the door, and then liquid fire spurted from the lamp across the table, whipped in a flare to the ceiling, and licked against the walls. It shot to all sides but it shot high, and every man was down on his face.
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