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Updated: June 10, 2025
I took it to the gas-jet and looked at it closely. It was a tall woman with a hat on, not unlike Jennie Brice. She was looking over the crowd, and I could see only her face, and that in shadow. I shook my head. "I thought not," he said. "We have a lot of stage pictures of her, but what with false hair and their being retouched beyond recognition, they don't amount to much."
One dim gas-jet burned there, but even in its nebulous light he perceived at once that the prowler was the bank's president. Wondering, fearful, undecided what to do, the old coloured man stood motionless in the gloomy strip of hallway, and waited developments. The vault, with its big iron door, was opposite him.
Slowly mounting the remaining steps, she followed him as if fascinated towards the door that showed dingily conspicuous in the light of an unshaded gas-jet. Almost at the moment that she reached his side he extended his hand towards the door. The action was decisive and hurried, as though he feared to trust himself. For a space he fumbled with the lock.
When the clatter of her rough shoes had ceased to echo on the stairs he drew the dressing-case from its hiding-place, tucked it inside his mackintosh, turned down the gas-jet, locked the door of the room, retracing his steps until he stood once more in front of Kling's sign. This time he went in. "I am glad you are still open," he began, shaking the wet from his coat. "I hoped you would be.
Baines, Edward, Mary said quietly; and then, having rearranged the sick man's pillow, she vanished out of the room and went into the kitchen. The gas-jet there showed only a point of blue, but she did not turn it up. Dragging an old oak rush-seated rocking-chair near to the range, where a scrap of fire still glowed, she rocked herself gently in the darkness. After about half an hour Mr.
He, by the way, once spoke to me of Lady William Russell, of whom I have already written, describing her as one of the most beautiful and in later years one of the most delightful people he had ever seen, and the best of all hostesses "You used to look up at the fanlight over the door of her house in South Audley Street, and if you saw the gas-jet burning you knew that she was at home, expecting the company of her friends, and needed no further invitation.
I followed, through long passages, up a creaking pair of stairs, along a deserted corridor only one gas-jet burning up a second flight of stairs and into an empty room, the door of which he opened with a key which he held in his hand.
Alma came behind and turned up the hall gas-jet with a sudden flash that made them both jump a little. The gas inside rendered it more difficult to tell who was on the threshold, but Mrs. Leighton decided from a timorous peep through the scrims that it was a lady and gentleman. Something in this distribution of sex emboldened her; she took her life in her hand, and opened the door.
Then, as if some sudden resolve had seized him, he walked quickly to the rear of the store in search of his employer. Otto was poring over his books, his bald head glistening under the rays of the gas-jet, which he had lighted to assist him in his work, the morning being dark. "I have been wanting to talk to you for some time, Mr. Kling, about Masie," he began abruptly.
Another sucked a rubber tube fastened to the gas-jet... It would have been better if they had fallen on the field of honor. Where was the nation's gratitude for the men who had fought and died, or fought and lived? Was it for this reward in peace that nearly a million of our men gave up their lives? That question is not my question.
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