Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 19, 2025
And also, at the same time, that same remark of the Pug's had given rise to a hope that she might yet trace Danglar to night through the Pug but the circumstances and happenings of the last few minutes had shattered that hope utterly. And so there remained the money.
It's open and shut that she's sitting so tight she hasn't been able to get into touch with him, and that's what's worrying Mr. Adventurer." Rhoda Gray, save for a nod of her head, made no answer. Danglar laughed suddenly, as though in relief; then, coming closer to the bed, plunged his hand into his coat pocket, and tossed handful of jewelry carelessly into Rhoda Gray's lap.
The first was an urgent message to return instantly to India on account of the old rajah's serious illness; the second was to the effect that Deemer had been murdered by a woman in New York, and that the jewels had been stolen." Again the Adventurer paused, and, eying Danglar, smiled not pleasantly.
You haven't got it quite right though, thank Heaven, you got it the way you did, since you are here now!" she said fervently. "It wasn't me, it wasn't the White Moll, they expected to get here; it's the man who helped me that night to clear you of the Hayden-Bond robbery that Danglar meant to make you shoulder. He risked his life to do it, Marty.
Danglar made no answer. His face was ashen; his little black eyes, like those of a cornered rat, and as though searching for some avenue of escape, were darting hunted glances all around the garret. Rhoda Gray, the first shock of surprise gone, leaned back against the washstand with an air of composure that she did not altogether feel. What was the Adventurer going to do?
It was not Danglar, or the Cricket, or Skeeny, or any of the band who had forestalled her it was the Adventurer. That was the Adventurer standing in there now, side face to her, in Nicky Viner's inner room! Rhoda Gray moved quietly, inch by inch, along the side of the wall to gain a point of vantage more nearly opposite the lighted doorway. And then she stopped again.
Yes, she had counted upon last night, when, with the necessary proof in her possession with which to confront Danglar with the crime of murder, she could wring from the man all that now remained necessary to substantiate her own story and clear herself in the eyes of the law of that robbery at Skarbolov's antique store of which she was held guilty and instead she had barely escaped with her life.
The man on the stairs she could see that it was a man now though he moved silently, swayed in a grotesquely jerky way as though he were lame. It wasn't Danglar! She would go to any length to track Danglar to his lair; but not here here in the darkness here in the garret.
And then suddenly another door was opened, and a soft, yellow light streamed out through the doorway, and she found that she was standing in an intervening room between the shop and the room ahead of her. She felt her pulse quicken, and it seemed as though her heart began to thump almost audibly. Danglar! She could see Danglar seated at a table in there. She clenched her hands under her shawl.
The paper detached from the key and thrust into her bodice, she stood up quickly. A form, looming up even in the darkness, showed on the garret stairs. "Who's dere?" she croaked. "It's all right," a voice answered in low tones. "You were just ahead of me on the street. I saw you come in. It's Pierre." Pierre! So that was his name! It was only the voice she recognized. Pierre Danglar!
Word Of The Day
Others Looking