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Updated: May 8, 2025
Bodfish their faces at once regained their wonted calm, and the ex-constable in a somewhat offended manner resumed his inquiries. "Mrs. Driver has been here a good bit lately," he remarked, slowly. Mr. Negget's eyes watered, and his mouth worked piteously. "If you can't behave yourself, George began began his wife, fiercely. "What is the matter?" demanded Mr. Bodfish.
Corporal Dempster was a noted traveller of those Yukon trails, and at the date of this writing is out on the same difficult route, his strength unbroken by the intervening years. For his party in search of Fitzgerald he chose Constable Fyfe, ex-Constable Turner, and an Indian, Charles Stewart. They had all been over the country again and again, and so knew it well.
Bodfish hung about in the neighbourhood of the widow's cottage, but in vain, and it would be hard to say whether he or Mr. Negget, who had been discreetly shadowing him, felt the disappointment most. On the day following, however, the ex-constable from a distant hedge saw a friend of the widow's enter the cottage, and a little later both ladies emerged and walked up the road.
There was hardly a button or a tape on; and as for her stockings " "She don't get much time," said Mr. Negget, slowly. "That's right; I thought you'd speak up for her," cried his wife, shrilly. "Look here " began Mr. Negget, laying his pipe on the seat by his side and rising slowly. "Keep to the case in hand," said the ex-constable, waving him back to his seat again. "Now, Lizzie."
I gave her a month's notice at once, and she went straight up stairs and sat on her box and cried." "Sat on her box?" repeated the ex-constable, impressively. "Oh!" "That's what I thought," said his niece, "but it wasn't, because I got her off at last and searched it through and through. I never saw anything like her clothes in all my life.
Negget went up and fetched it and stood eyeing him eagerly as he raised the lid and inspected the contents. It contained only a few lozenges and some bone studs. Mr. Negget helped himself to a lozenge, and going back to his seat, breathed peppermint. "Properly speaking, that ought not to have been touched," said the ex-constable, regarding him with some severity.
The ex-constable defined kleptomania as a sort of amiable weakness found chiefly among the upper circles, and cited the case of a lady of title whose love of diamonds, combined with great hospitality, was a source of much embarrassment to her guests. For the whole of that day Mr.
McEachern and himself offered a very serious bar to his prospects; but in his present frame of mind he declined to consider the existence of the ex-constable at all. In a world that contained Molly there was no room for other people. They were not in the picture. They did not exist.
Cap'n Sproul sat despondent in his chair, and gazed through the broken window at other broken windows. Ex-Constable Nute presented himself at the pane outside and said, nervously chewing tobacco: "I reckon it's the only thing that can be done now, Cap'n. It seems to be the general sentiment." With a flicker of hope irradiating his features, Cap'n Sproul inquired for details.
There was hardly a button or a tape on; and as for her stockings " "She don't get much time," said Mr. Negget, slowly. "That's right; I thought you'd speak up for her," cried his wife, shrilly. "Look here " began Mr. Negget, laying his pipe on the seat by his side and rising slowly. "Keep to the case in hand," said the ex-constable, waving him back to his seat again. "Now, Lizzie."
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