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"I suppose the sooner I tell you, the sooner you'll go. Do you know Bodfish?" I shuddered. "Wilkinson Bodfish? I do." "Have you ever spent a weekend at Bodfish's place in the country?" I shuddered again. "I have." "Well, I'm not spending the weekend at Bodfish's place in the country." "I see you're not. But " "You don't understand.

Bodfish arrived in the pine-wood regions of New Jersey he related to his friends his adventures "in furrin parts," as he styled the Dominion of Canada, and so interlaced the facts of the cruise of the Mayeta with the fancies of the "Journey to the Centre of the Earth," that to his neighbors the region of the St.

Three times he took up his pencil, and laying it down again, sat and drummed on the table with his fingers. Then he arose, and with bent head walked slowly round and round the room until he stumbled over a stool. "Nobody came to the house this morning, I suppose?" he said at length, resuming his seat. "Only Mrs. Driver," said his niece. "What time did she come?" inquired Mr. Bodfish.

Negget glancing at frequent intervals toward the door, behind which she was convinced the servant was listening, and checking the finest periods and the most startling suggestions with a warning 'ssh! "Go on, uncle," she said, after one of these interruptions. "I forget where I was," said Mr. Martin Bodfish, shortly. "Under our bed," Mr. Negget reminded him. "Yes, watching," said Mrs.

Bodfish hotly rebuked a suggestion of his niece's to sweep them up. "Seems to me," said the conscience-stricken Mr. Negget, feebly, "as they're rather large for a woman." "Mud cakes," said Mr. Bodfish, with his most professional manner; "a small boot would pick up a lot this weather." "So it would," said Mr.

Wednesday broke upon us a glorious day. Proceeding three miles to Patterson's Landing, into the "tail of the lake," I left the Mayeta to explore on foot the shores of Lake George, promising Bodfish to join him at Whitehall when my work should be finished.

"No," said Mrs. Negget, decisively. I'm a very poor sleeper, and I'd have woke at once, but if a flock of elephants was to come in the room they wouldn't wake George. He'd sleep through anything." "Except her feeling under my piller for her handkerchief," corroborated Mr. Negget, returning to the sitting-room. Mr. Bodfish waved them to silence, and again gave way to deep thought.

Surely only those who were in the vicinity the night of the robbery. By a process of elimination we narrowed them down to just ten persons exclusive of Mrs. Burlingame herself and her husband, old Billie Burlingame. We took the lot and canvassed them. There were Mr. and Mrs. Willington Bodfish they left early and the stomacher was known to be safe at the time of their departure.

Driver was here, sitting in that very chair you are sitting in now." Mr. Bodfish pursed up his lips and made another note. Then he took a spill from the fireplace, and lighting a candle, went slowly and carefully up the stairs. He found nothing on them but two caked rims of mud, and being too busy to notice Mr. Negget's frantic signalling, called his niece's attention to them.

I get up on Monday morning feeling like a lion. The reason I selected Bodfish this week, though I was practically engaged to a man named Stevenson who lives out in Connecticut, was that I felt rundown and needed a real rest. I shall be all right on Monday." "And so shall I," I said, sinking into the chair beside him. "You're not going to the country?" he asked regretfully. "I am not.