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Updated: June 27, 2025
Half an hour later Miss Naylor, carrying a candle, found her there fast asleep, with her head resting on the terrier's back, and tear stains on her cheeks.... Mrs. Decie presently came out, also carrying a candle, and went to her brother's room. She stood before his chair, with folded hands. "Nicholas, what is to be done?" Mr. Treffry was pouring whisky into a glass.
Decie, passing her hand across her brow "crime is but the hallmark of strong individuality." Miss Naylor, gushing rather pink, stammered: "A great crime must show itself a murder. Why, of course!" "If that were so," said Dawney, "we should only have to look about us no more detectives."
Herr Paul stopped in his tramp, and, still with his eyes fixed on the floor, growled: "A fine thing-hein? What's coming? Will you please tell me? An anarchist a beggar!" "Paul!" murmured Mrs. Decie. "Paul! Paul! And you!" he pointed to Miss Naylor "Two women with eyes! hein!" "There is nothing to be gained by violence," Mrs. Decie murmured, passing her handkerchief across her lips.
Decie, indeed, was thinking: 'Interesting young man, regular Bohemian no harm in that at his age; something Napoleonic in his face; probably has no dress clothes. Yes, should like to see more of him! She had a fine eye for points of celebrity; his name was unfamiliar, would probably have been scouted by that famous artist Mr. C , but she felt her instinct urging her on to know him.
"I might be a criminal!" he muttered to himself, while the buttons of his garments rattled on the bath. "Am I her father? Have I authority? Do I know the world? Bssss! I might be a frog!" Mrs. Decie, having caused herself to be announced, found him smoking a cigar, and counting the flies on the ceiling.
There were things too in her eyes that he could neither read nor reproduce. Dawney would often stroll out to them after his daily visit, and lying on the grass, his arms crossed behind his head, and a big cigar between his lips, would gently banter everybody. Tea came at five o'clock, and then Mrs. Decie appeared armed with a magazine or novel, for she was proud of her literary knowledge.
Miss Naylor, who had gone into the house, came back, saying: "There is a strange man standing over there by the corner of the house." "Really!" asked Mrs. Decie; "what does he want?" Miss Naylor reddened. "I did not ask him. I don't know whether he is quite respectable. His coat is buttoned very close, and he doesn't seem to have a collar." "Go and see what he wants, dear child," Mrs.
"Take care take care, all!" he cried; "I am a devil of a catcher," and, feeling the air cautiously, he moved forward like a bear about to hug. He caught no one. Christian and Greta whisked under his arms and left him grasping at the air. Mrs. Decie slipped past with astonishing agility. Mr. Treffry, smoking his cigar, and barricaded in a corner, jeered: "Bravo, Paul! The active beggar!
An anarchist! A beggar!" "Paul!" murmured Mrs. Decie. "The outlaw! The fellow!" Herr Paul began to stride about the room. Quivering from head to foot, Christian cried: "How dared you?" and ran from the room, pushing aside Miss Naylor and Greta, who stood blanched and frightened in the doorway.
Treffry remarked. With sudden contrition she bent and kissed him. But when she had left the room Mr. Treffry put down the Times and stared at the door, humming to himself, and thoughtfully fingering his chin. Christian could not eat; she sat, indifferent to the hoverings of Dominique, tormented by uneasy fear and longings. She answered Mrs. Decie at random.
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