Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 4, 2025
The long blade of his sword-stick, no thicker at the hilt than the blade of a sailor's sheath-knife, and narrowing to nothing at the point, glittered in the moonlight. "Here," he said, and thrust the empty stick into Cartoner's hand. "But you need not use it. There are only two. Ah! Ah!"
I left him this morning, placidly preparing to depart at half an hour's warning. He was packing, with that repose of manner which you have perhaps noticed. Better than Vespers, better than absolution, is Cartoner's repose of manner for me, bien entendu. But, then, I am not a devout man." "Then you have done what I asked you to do," said Wanda, "some time ago, and I am very grateful."
"Yes." Martin was standing at the door of Cartoner's compartment. He turned away with a laugh. "Good-night," he said. "Hope you will get some more sleep. We shall meet again in a few hours." He closed the sliding door, and as the train moved slowly out of the station Cartoner could hear the cheerful voice of a rather high timbre in conversation with the German attendant in the corridor.
And he glanced at Cartoner's cigarette with the satisfaction of a conversationalist who has pulled off a good simile. "'Safternoon," he continued, "I went to see some people about a little job for the Minnie. She'll be out of dock in a fortnight. You will not forget to come down and see her?" "I should like to see her," said Cartoner. "Go on with your story."
Princess Wanda met Cartoner's serious eyes again, and in that place, where human fates are written, another page of those inscrutable books was folded over. Prince Bukaty was an affable old man, with a love of good wine and a perfect appreciation of the humorous.
Kosmaroff did as he was told. His eyes had the unmistakable glitter of starvation and exhaustion. They were fixed on Cartoner's face, with a hundred unasked questions in them. "How did it happen?" asked Cartoner, at length. "They fired on us crossing the frontier, and hit him. Pity it was not me. He is a much greater loss than I should have been. That was the night before last.
The hiding-place was a good one, provided that the fugitive had the collusion of whosoever sat in Cartoner's chair. "His Excellency would not betray a poor unfortunate," whispered an eager voice at Cartoner's elbow, while, with a sang-froid which had been partly acquired south of the Pyrenees, the Briton sat and gazed across the Tagus. "That depends upon what the unfortunate has been after."
"But you must swear that what you tell me is true and that Juanita will join you in Argentina. Honour of a gentleman." "Honour of a gentleman," repeated the voice; and the hand of a blacksmith came through the leaves, seeking Cartoner's grasp. "They are turning the lights out," said Cartoner, when the bargain was concluded. "But I will wait until it is safe to leave you here.
He was passing through it when, without turning towards him, he grasped Cartoner's arm. "Look!" he said, "look!" There was a sudden commotion in the well-dressed crowd in the paddock, and above the gray coats and glossy hats the tossing colors of a jockey. The head of a startled horse and two gleaming shoes appeared above the heads of men for a moment.
Lady Orlay at length went to meet Cartoner, and as they shook hands, one of those slight and indefinable family resemblances which start up at odd moments became visible. "I want you particularly to-morrow night," said the lady; "I have some people coming. I will send a card to your club this evening." And she turned to say good-bye to a departing guest. Deulin was at Cartoner's elbow again.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking