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Updated: June 23, 2025
Luckily the favored ones restrained themselves until they reached Durand's room on the third deck, where a vent promptly presented itself, and is too good a story to leave untold. Naturally at Christmas, innumerable boxes of "eats" are shipped to the midshipmen from all over the United States, their contents usually governed by the section of the world from which they are forwarded.
The police had gone a step further than the coroner's jury, and Mr. Durand was arrested, before my eyes, on a charge of murder. * Mr. Durand's visits to the curio-shops, as explained by him, were made with a view of finding a casket in which to place his diamond.
This led to his being apprenticed to an engraver, and after his apprenticeship was over, he devoted three years to engraving the plate of Trumbull's "Signing of the Declaration of Independence." The work was excellently done and established Durand's reputation. But he was not satisfied with engraving, and soon abandoned it for the more creative work of painting.
"Well, that gink at the helm is a mess and no mistake," was Durand's scornful comment. "What the mischief is he trying to do with that tub anyhow?" "Wreck it, ruin a better one, and drown his passengers, I reckon," answered Peggy. "And look at that little child.
Durand's face wore an ugly look of impotent malice, but his throat was dry as a lime kiln. He could not estimate the danger that confronted him nor what lay back of the man's presence. "What you doin' here?" he demanded. "Makin' my party call," retorted Clay easily. Jerry cursed him with a low, savage stream of profanity. The gangman enraged was not a sight pleasing to see.
Bryant's face has an immovable tranquillity, a reserve and impassiveness, which yet are not coldness; the clear gray eye calmly looks through and through you, but permits no intelligence of what is passing behind it to come out to you. It is such a face as one of the old Greek kings might have had, as he sat administering justice. All this, it seems to us, Durand's picture gives.
The night of the election Boulanger and his État-major were assembled at Durand's, the well-known café on the corner of the Boulevard and the rue Royale. As the evening went on and the returns came in far exceeding anything they had hoped for there was but one thought in every one's mind "A l'Élysée." Hundreds of people were waiting outside and he would have been carried in triumph to the Palace.
The silk lining fluttered loose where Armitage had roughly torn out the envelope. "Who is he? Who is he?" whispered Durand, very white of face. "It may be it must be some one deeply concerned." Chauvenet paused, drawing his hand across his forehead slowly; then the color leaped back into his face, and he caught Durand's arm so tight that the man flinched.
Meeting the inspector's eye firmly, I quietly declared, "If Mr. Durand's good name is to suffer in any way, I will not forsake him. I have confidence in his integrity, if you have not. It was not his hand, but one much more guilty, which dropped this jewel into the bag." "So! so! do not be too sure of that, little woman. You had better take your lesson at once.
"Enjoy your dance," he cried; "I have a word to say to Mrs. Fairbrother," and was gone before my new partner had taken me on his arm. Was Mrs. Fairbrother the lady with the diamond? Yes; as I turned to enter the parlor with my partner, I caught a glimpse of Mr. Durand's tall figure just disappearing from the step behind the sage-green curtains. "Who is Mrs. Fairbrother?" I inquired of Mr.
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