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Updated: July 28, 2025
Barton picked up the cigarette-case, and as he, for the first time, examined its interior, some broken glass fell out and tinkled on the floor. Maitland did not dally long in the Levant after getting Barton's letter. He was soon in a position to receive, in turn, the congratulations which he offered to Margaret and Barton with unaffected delight. Mrs. St.
Newell returned, with a small flat packet which she vainly sought to dissemble in an inaccessible pocket. "He makes everything too odious!" she exclaimed; but whether she referred to her husband or the Baron it was left to Garnett to decide. She sat silent, nervously twisting her cigarette-case between her fingers, while her visitor rehearsed the details of his conversation with Mr. Newell.
Miss French got up, put her cigarette-case in her velvet hand-bag, slipped on her coat, fastened her veil, picked up her muff, shook it, and looked toward the door, between whose curtains Mrs. Warrick was standing. "I thought you'd gone for good, Hope. You must have been telling all you knew, and more. Miss Keith was just saying she loved Christmas in the country.
"I've had to put my handkerchief in my shoe, and my cigarette-case has lodged slightly to the right and six inches below my heart. You'll have to make a ring round me, if I want to smoke." "Have you got the tickets?" said Daphne. "My dear, I distinctly remember giving them to " A perfect shriek went up from Daphne and Jill. The footman slipped on to the step and opened the door.
When he had found his cigarette-case, he proffered it to Tabs, who refused it. "I wish you'd sit down, my dear fellow." Tabs glanced at his watch. There was only a quarter of an hour left of the time he had allotted. As a concession to Sir Tobias he seated himself. "It was about General Braithwaite that you called me up last night?" "Yes. But there's no hurry. We can discuss that over lunch."
"You spilt the liquor yourself," Barton answered coolly, "when I took away your cigarette-case. I saw you passing the cards over the surface of it, which anyone can see for himself is a perfect mirror.
"Another boy," he said. "That all he has?" The searcher raised himself. "Just those, and a photo." "Dispatch-case; pound loose; cigarette-case; wristwatch; photo. Let's see it." The searcher placed the photo in the pool of light. The tiny face of a girl stared up at them, unmoved, from its short hair. "Noel," said the searcher, reading. "H'm! Take care of it. Stick it in his case. Come on!"
He turned as I ran up. "Good!" he said, and offered me his cigarette-case. "The big fellow is coming down," I urged. "Have a light," said Indiman. "And now, my son, allons!" I stepped into the coach, and Indiman after me. There was a sound of angry voices from the hall above; two or three men dashed down the stairway, others following. "Drive on!" shouted Indiman, and the carriage started.
He sat down again, got out his cigarette-case, and stretched himself flat on his stomach, screening the matches with the skirt of his coat. But the wind found its way in and put out match after match. At last he got one to burn and lit a cigarette.
"Except a man," said Isabel, "You can't get away, Stumpy. You're caught." A fleeting smile crossed her face like a gleam of light and was gone. She turned her look upon Dinah, and became silent again. Scott, much disconcerted, hunted in every pocket for his cigarette-case. "You don't mind my smoking, I hope?" he murmured. "I like it," said Dinah. "Let me help you light up!"
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