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Updated: June 9, 2025
Kenyon heard him out in dead silence. He had found the ash-tray, but he did not turn his head. After several dumb seconds, he walked across the room to the window, and stood there. Finally he spoke. "I don't suppose," he said, in his calm, expressionless drawl, "that you have ever had a cowhiding in your life, have you?" "What?" said Jerry. He stared at Kenyon in frank amazement. Was the man mad?
Then the usual order of proceedings commenced. Garth lighted a cigarette one of the first things he had learned to do for himself and smoked contentedly, carefully placing his ash-tray, and almost unfailingly locating the ash, in time and correctly. Nurse Rosemary took up the first letter, read the postmark, and described the writing on the envelope.
"Are we as safe as all that?" "If we're careful to make an ash-tray of our own pockets," said Raffles, and I heard him tapping his cigarette in the dark. I refused to run any risks.
"Fully four feet from the window, Petrie, and that window but a few inches open! Look" he bent forward, resting his chest against the table, and stretched out his hand toward me. "You have a rule there; just measure." Setting down the ash-tray, I opened out the rule and measured the distance from the further edge of the table to the tips of Smith's fingers.
Thresk told the story of that dinner-party word for word as it had occurred, laying some emphasis on the terror which from time to time had taken possession of Stephen Ballantyne, down to the moment when Baram Singh had brought the ash-tray and left the two men together, Thresk sitting by the table in the middle of the room and Ballantyne at his bureau with the despatch-box on the floor at his feet.
Embury lighted one cigarette from the stub of another, and deposited the stub in the ash-tray at his elbow. It was Sunday afternoon, and the peculiar relaxedness of that day of rest and gladness had somewhat worn on the nerves of both Sanford and Eunice. Aunt Abby was napping, and it was too early yet to look for their expected visitor, Hanlon.
The force of her rage was beginning to spend itself, and the vision of the world which had been so vivid became dim. "It's a dream," she murmured. She considered the rusty inkstand, the pen, the ash-tray, and the old French newspaper. These small and worthless objects seemed to her to represent human lives. "We're asleep and dreaming," she repeated.
Over the chairs and sofa there hung strips of black material, covered with big splashes like broken eggs, and everywhere one looked there seemed to be an ash-tray full of cigarette ends. William sat down in one of the arm-chairs.
Fired by the notion, she made one or two ineffectual dabs at the woman's draperies: then, flinging down brush and palette, sank into a deep, cushioned chair sacred to her husband, as a small table bearing ash-tray, pipes, and a pile of corrected proofs, bore witness. She glanced through them lazily, with softened eyes: then, as if drawn by a magnet, her gaze returned to the picture.
"Well, then, if you're sure I don't trespass Mr. Osborn, the kind way you're receiving me makes me venturesome. I see an ash-tray over there, proving you sometimes favor the weed. Would you mind if I took a whiff of tobacco a pipe?" "Why, surely not." "You won't join me?" "No, thanks. But I'll tell you what I will do;" and Mr. Osborn emitted a chuckle.
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