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Updated: June 9, 2025
For the twentieth time, I should think, I raised the ash-tray in my hand and held it immediately under the table lamp in order to examine its contents. In the little brass bowl lay a blood-stained fragment of greyish hair attached to a tatter of skin. This fragment of epidermis had an odd bluish tinge, and the attached hair was much darker at the roots than elsewhere.
Resting his pipe upon an ash-tray, the Inspector took up from my writing-table the little image of Bâst and held it up between finger and thumb. "We always come back to the green cat," he said slowly. "I will trouble you now, Mr. Addison, for the history of such a little image as this." "Yes," I replied abstractedly.
He pushed Strange gently into the most comfortable arm-chair beside which he drew up a small table for the cigar-box, the ash-tray, and the matches. He rang for another cup, and brought the coffee with his own hands. Strange remembered how often, after a hard day's work, he had been made uncomfortable by just such awkward, affectionate attentions from poor old Monsieur Durand.
"It's going to be a moral story, after all," interjected Mrs. Ennis triumphantly. Burnaby chuckled and puffed at his cigarette. "Well," he said finally, "it's about a fellow named Mackintosh." Pollen, drowsily smoking a cigar, suddenly stirred uneasily. "Who?" he asked, leaning forward. "Mackintosh James Mackintosh! What are you looking for? An ash-tray? Here's one." Burnaby passed it over.
She was too disturbed even to shrink from the duty of informing Sartorius; there was no room in her mind now for personal animus. She found the doctor in his own room, a medical journal on his knee and an untidy ash-tray beside him, together with a cup of strong Indian tea.
I don't see why you want to come picking on me, though. I've done nothing." Mr. Pett was sniffing suspiciously. "You've been smoking." "Me!!" "Smoking cigarettes." "No, sir!" "There are two butts in the ash-tray." "I didn't put them there." "One of them is warm." "It's a warm day." "You dropped it there when you heard me come in." "No, sir! I've only been here a few minutes.
I can't do it alone. I've got to have help. I don't want to be soothed and comforted like a child, and I don't want to be made love to. I just want to be treated like a human being." "I see," he said. Very deliberately he lighted a cigarette, found himself an ash-tray and settled down astride a spindling little chair. "Now, come on with your troubles."
Now do you understand why I didn't want you to think I was flattering you? You've got your head screwed on right, I know, but I should hate to feel afterwards, if anything went wrong, that you thought I had buttered you up in order to entice you into taking the job on!" Desmond took two or three deep puffs of his cigarette and dropped it into the ash-tray. "I'll see you!" he said.
Chrysanthème, like a gypsy, squats before a particular square box, made of red wood, which contains a little tobacco jar, a little porcelain stove full of hot embers, and finally a little bamboo pot serving at the same time as ash-tray and spittoon.
She thinks Rodney would have 'wanted' me more, if I hadn't thrown myself at him like that." Portia extinguished her cigarette in a little ash-tray, and began unpacking her pillows before she spoke. "I don't know," she said at last. "It's been said for a long time that the only way to make a man want anything very wildly, is to make him think it's desperately hard to get.
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