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"How's that?" demanded Whitney, narrowing his eyes down into a squint at Kennedy's face, a proceeding that served by contrast to emphasize the abnormal condition of the pupils which I had already noticed both in his eyes and Lockwood's. "I don't think she'd object to having him marry into one of the leading families in Peru," ventured Kennedy, paraphrasing what we had already read in the letter.
In the course of an hour the detective returned and reported that the young man had sold the jewels to a pawnbroker for less than one-fourth their actual value. About half an hour later I heard the news of the robbery at Fair Oaks, and that the family jewels were missing; and knowing that Mr. Whitney was here, I immediately telephoned to him the facts which I have just stated.
"I couldn't stay still a moment longer." Kathleen's slender, supple fingers played with a piece of toast. "You need not bother to conceal the newspapers, Dad," as Whitney surreptitiously tucked the Herald and the Post behind his back. "I read them up in my room." "My dearest, I'm sorry you did that." Whitney leaned over and clasped her hand tenderly. "I gave orders that...."
William C. Whitney, then Secretary of the Navy, explaining my purpose in coming to Washington, and asking him to obtain for me an interview with President Cleveland without using Mr. Hewitt's name. Then he shook hands with me, and wished me success. "I have the faith," he said, "that is without hope." That expressed my own feeling. The faith that was without hope! So I came to Washington.
"I am told your daughter's screams aroused the household," he said. "Can I see Miss Whitney?" "No, you must wait until she is composed; the doctor is just administering an opiate," replied Whitney hastily. "Kathleen has been through a most harrowing experience." "I see." Mitchell drummed impatiently on the arm of his chair. Whitney eyed the two men askance.
Instead of his returning with a reply, Fred Whitney came back, bringing the announcement that Vesey had entered the house without claiming the protection of a truce, and after telling what he was directed to tell about Monteith Sterry, Capt. Asbury had directed Whitney to notify Capt.
He is too much in the house for a chauffeur; I meet him on the stairs, always on his way to the attic with some message to M. Whitney who works in his studio there. He laughs and teases me, that Henry, but wait!" Julie's eyes were blazing. "And that Monsieur Spencer; I trust him not also. Ah, mademoiselle, do not let him be closeted with your father he is the younger and stronger man."
Already in 1893 Whitney had finished with politics after having gratified every ambition, and swung the country almost at his will; he had thrown away the usual objects of political ambition like the ashes of smoked cigarettes; had turned to other amusements, satiated every taste, gorged every appetite, won every object that New York afforded, and, not yet satisfied, had carried his field of activity abroad, until New York no longer knew what most to envy, his horses or his houses.
A little old woman sat sewing by the window. "We haven't time to stop," said Mr. Whitney. "Hanny, that lady is your hero's grandmother, and the mother of General Watts Kearny. He not only distinguished himself in the Mexican War, but also in the War of 1812. Then he was Governor of Vera Cruz and the City of Mexico." "And the hero of no end of stories," added Ben.
"Only the best of 'em isn't here," observed Van, rather ungallantly, "he draws perfectly elegant, papa!" "I like Polly best, I do!" cried little Dick, tumbling after. "Peppers!" again repeated Mr. Whitney in a puzzled way. "And here is Mrs. Pepper," said old Mr. King, pompously drawing her forward, "the children's mother, and " But here Mrs.
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