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Bolitho who had had the farm in her day. She wrote to her, and two days later received a letter saying that there was room for them at Borhedden if they wished. She was now all feverish impatience. Dr. Abrams said that Martin could be moved if they were very careful. All plans were made. Mrs.
Abrams, in low, gentle tone to Mark one day, as she looked into the small library where he sat busily at work upon something half-concealed in his hand, "come here a mimute, won't you?" "Are you in a hurry, mother?" he replied, lifting his black eyes, bright with an expression of determination, and resting them full upon his mother's face.
In a flash he had turned on me, and I felt the muzzle of a revolver pressing against my side. "If you wouldn't mind turning that gun the other way, it would suit me just as well," I said. "Oh, it's you, is it?" said Abrams with a gulp. "I thought Darby Meeker and his gang was at my back, sure." "Did you hear anything?" I asked. "Yes; there was a call out here a bit ago.
In the interior of the State, about two hundred miles distant from the Queen City, was a cosy, sequestered little settlement, called Inglewood. To this little shelter of peace and security, many refugees had found their way, and taken temporary homes. Many Hebrew families from the Queen City had fled thither, and among them those of Rabbi Abrams and Mr. Mordecai. It was some weeks after Mr.
Yet when we stood on the platform of the bare little station at Livermore and saw the yellow cars crawling away on their eastward journey, we looked in vain for the men who had tracked us. "Fooled, by thunder!" said Fitzhugh with a laugh in which the others joined. "They're off for Sacramento." "They'll have to earn their money to find us there," said Abrams.
"Cover Abrams!" his voice rang out commandingly, and he himself jumped in front of the Secretary while others on the platform sprang up to completely surround the Simonidean, and hide him from possible further danger. Hanlon raised one of the tassel-whistles and blew a piercing blast.
Hanlon found Abrams in the library, and slipped into the seat next to him. Opening a magazine and holding it fairly high before his face while apparently reading it, Hanlon started talking in low but penetrant tones. "Don't look up, Mr. Abrams, but listen to me. You may or may not know it, but there's a plot against your life.
"Keep together, boys," I cautioned my retainers as I recalled the situation. "Has any one seen signs of the other gang?" There was a general murmur in the negative. "Well, Abrams, will you slip around and see if any of them got aboard? There's no such thing as being comfortable until we are sure."
He was born in London in 1773, of Jewish parentage, his real name being Abrams, and was so wretchedly poor that he sold pencils on the street to get a scanty living. Leoni, an Italian teacher of repute, discovered by accident that he had a fine voice, and took the friendless lad under his tutelage.
On the eighth day she rose, as a swimmer rises from green depths, and saw the sunshine and the landscape again. "He'll do if you're careful," said Dr. Abrams, and suddenly became once more the curious, dirty, sensual little creature that he had been at first. But now, with the doctor's words, the rest of the world came back to her. She remembered Paul.
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