Thou wilt find the address with Emil." He turned to the door; Kranitski held him by the hand, however, and looked into his face with eyes which were mist-covered. "Then it has come to this; for long years! It may be forever!" "Well, well! See, thou art growing tender," began Maryan, but he stopped, and over his rosy face passed something like a shade of feeling. "Well, my old man, embrace me!"

As if imitating Kranitski, though really he did not even think of his existence, Baron Emil was acting in the same way with reference to Irene, gazing through his opera-glass at her face, which showed indifference and even weariness.

He had no love for Lou, who was always uppish with him and who said that Alexandra paid her hands too much. "I've no thought but to give the thing an honest try, mum. 'T would be only right, after puttin' so much expense into it. Maybe Emil will come out an' have a look at it wid me."

She was going to a boarding-house where she had spent a couple of weekends with Emil Miller, and had written to say that her husband was obliged to go to Germany on business and she was coming down with her baby. She got pleasure out of the stories she invented, and she showed a certain fertility of invention in the working out of the details.

Clayton walked across the hall, with the concealed fortune locked in the travelling bag, and then remembered his pistol thrown into his desk drawer. He had just slipped it in his pocket when Emil Einstein glided into the room. "Come down," he eagerly whispered, "She's there, and there's some bad news, I fear."

As soon, however, as she thought of that, the idea flashed through her mind, like lightning: if he himself...if Emil.... But she was afraid of the thought, and banished it from her. Not with such bold dreams as these would she go to meet Emil.

She could neither go home nor to her relatives, she must go back again.... She wondered, too, whether Anna would have to die if another letter from Emil came that day?... In truth, she was losing her reason.... Of course, these two things had not the least connection between them ... and yet ... why was she unable to dissociate them one from the other?... Once more she hurried up the steps.

Then he took from his pocket a tiny little revolver, and placing it on the table before him, covered it with his handkerchief. Almost immediately a door at the farther end of the room opened and closed. A man in dark clothes, small, unnaturally pale, with deep-set eyes and nervous, twitching mouth, stood before him. Mr. Sabin smiled a welcome at him. "Good-morning, Emil Sachs," he said.

Baron Emil said at times to Irene: "You have the aristocracy of intellect. Your mind is original. There is in you much delicate irony. You are not deceived with painted pots." These words caused her pleasure of the same sort as that which the praise of a mountaineer causes an inexperienced traveller when he tells him that he knows how to climb neck-breaking summits.

"Little that counts, one way or the other," joined in Dane Jurgensen, coming to the aid of his Scandinavian brother. "Emil is a man grown and an able seaman; the boy is neither." And so the argument raged back and forth, the Swedes, Norwegians and Danes, because of race kinship, taking the part of Johansen, and the English, Canadians and Americans taking the part of Chris.