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Updated: June 16, 2025
"Too skittish for me," responded the other with a sidelong look, for he had caught a note in Crozier's voice which gave him a sudden suspicion. "You want the kind you can drive with an oatstraw and a chirp eh, my friend?" "Well, I've got what I want," was the reply. "Neither of us 'll kick over the traces." "You are a lucky man," replied Crozier. "You've got a remarkably big prize in the lottery.
His swift scrutiny showed that Crozier's wife had no habitation here, and that gave him his cue for what the French call "the reconstruction of the crime." It certainly was clear that, as he had suggested at the Logan Trial, there was serious trouble in the Crozier family of two, and the offender must naturally be the man who had flown, not the woman who had stayed.
"He's done the first aid, and he's off getting what's needed for the operation. He'll be here in a minute or so," said a banker who, a few days before, had refused Crozier credit. "Gently, gently don't do it that way," said Mrs. Tynan in sharp reproof as they began to take off Crozier's clothes.
When their warning was not heeded and the flame of rebellion broke out, they, as this story will show, did more than their share in putting out the fire where it had started, and in preventing it from spreading, as it might have done, over the whole country. We have quoted Superintendent Crozier's warning.
Perhaps the tale was the more impressive because of Crozier's deep baritone voice, capable, as it was, of much modulation, yet, except when he was excited, having a slight monotone like the note of a violin with the mute upon the strings. This was his tale: "Well, to begin with, I was born at Castlegarry, in Kerry you know the main facts from what I said in court. As a boy I wasn't so bad a sort.
"Please make yourself at home no need to rap," answered Mrs. Tynan. "Out in the West here we live in the open like. There's no room closed to you, if you can put up with what there is, though it's not what you're used to." "For five months in the year during the past five years I've lived in a house about half as large as this," was Mrs. Crozier's reply.
"It's a nice room, isn't it?" asked Kitty when there had passed from Mona Crozier's eyes the glaze or mist not of tears, but stupefaction which had followed her inspection of the walls, the bureau, the table, and the desk. "Most comfortable, and so very clean quite spotless," the wife answered admiringly, and yet drearily.
"Is is he dead?" she asked tremblingly. "No. Hurt bad." "The kindest man it'd break Kitty's heart and mine," she added hastily, for she might be misunderstood; and John Sibley had shown signs of interest in her daughter. "Where's the Young Doctor?" she asked, catching sight of Crozier's face as they laid him on the bed.
Seeing Mona's agitation changing to choler, the Young Doctor intervened. He did not know Kitty was purposely stinging Crozier's unhappy little consort, so that she should be put upon her mettle to do the thing without bungling. "You can trust Mrs. Crozier to act carefully; but what exactly do you mean? I judge that Mrs.
So she imagined Crozier's wife to have been a sort of Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra, who swept up the dust of the universe with her skirts, and gave no chance at all to the children of nature like Kitty, who wore skirts scarcely lower than their ankles.
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