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"It was you who heard a cry of some kind at the rear of the house about the time of Sir Crichton's death?" "Yes, sir. I was locking the garage door, and, happening to look up at the window of Sir Crichton's study, I saw him jump out of his chair. Where he used to sit at his writing, sir, you could see his shadow on the blind. Next minute I heard a call out in the lane." "What kind of call?"
It was the signal to withdraw that deadly thing. By means of the iron stairway at the rear of Major-General Platt-Houston's, I quite easily, gained access to the roof above Sir Crichton's study and I found this."
I met him at Lady Crichton's." "Who is he?" "Haven't an idea. I never saw or heard of him before. We talked a good deal at dessert. He came over from the other side of the table to sit by me, and somehow, in five minutes, we'd got into spiritualism and all that sort of thing. He is evidently a believer in it, calls himself an occultist."
We will not give Helen's answer. Suffice it to say the girls received all the facts they wished to know, and felt more than ever impressed with Helen's ideas of celestial hospitality. Then followed a vivid description of several of the M.P.P.'s, particularly the younger members of that august assemblage. "The Crichton's of the House, did you say, Helen?" cried Josie, abruptly.
"The most singular quality of this vapour or mirage, as it is termed, is its power of reflection; objects are seen as from the surface of a lake, and their figure is sometimes changed into the most fantastic shapes." CRICHTON'S Arabia, vol. i. p. 41. See two other curious accounts of the effects of mirage and refraction in Sturt's Expeditions in Australia, vol. ii. pp. 56 and 171.
Crichton, falling on his knees, took his own sword by the point, and presented it to the prince; who immediately seized it, and instigated, as some say, by jealousy, according to others, only by drunken fury and brutal resentment, thrust him through the heart. It is an elegant summary of Crichton's life which is in Mackenzie's Writers of the Scotch Nation.
It is an incontinence of brilliance, graceless and aggressive, a glaring swagger. The drunken helot of cleverness is the creature who goes about making puns. A mere step above comes the epigram, the isolated epigram framed and glazed. Then such impressionist art as Crichton's pictures, mere puns in paint.
"Never mind the dacoit, Petrie," he said. "Nemesis will know where to find him. We know now what causes the mark of the Zayat Kiss. Therefore science is richer for our first brush with the enemy, and the enemy is poorer unless he has any more unclassified centipedes. I understand now something that has been puzzling me since I heard of it Sir Crichton's stifled cry.
"You know what this presaged in Sir Crichton's case? Can you doubt any longer? She did not want you to share my fate, Petrie." "Smith," I said unsteadily, "I have followed your lead blindly in this horrible business and have not pressed for an explanation, but I must insist before I go one step farther upon knowing what it all means." "Just a few steps farther," he rejoined; "as far as a cab.
In Crichton's Memoirs, edited by Swift, where a particular account of this remarkable person's dress and habits is given, he is said never to have worn boots.
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