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Updated: May 16, 2025
His investigations, while inconspicuous were thorough, and soon brought him in contact with the name of an equine stranger. "Zanzibar, eh?" thought the old man as he left the office of the racing secretary. "Zanzibar? And Johnson owns him. H'm-m. I'll have to find out about that one, sure. The others don't amount to much. But this Zanzibar? If I only had Frank now!"
He was very apt to make an assent with an upward movement of the head, a comfortable h'm-m, and a half-smile. Sympathetic he was, indeed, and warm with the fire that never goes out in great natures. He had much dignity; so much that persons in his own country sometimes thought him shy and reticent to the verge of morbidness.
He worked for this Monsieur Brandon as a herder of sheep. He found a mine of gold and he was killed when he was coming to tell about it." "His Christian name?" "Pedro Pierre." "H'm-m! That must have been French Pete. I remember him. He was more than a cut above the ordinary Basco." He spoke in English, again forgetting that mademoiselle spoke the language. She reminded him of it.
But I cannot have you sleeping on the bare floor. Not on such a night. Pneumonia comes on one like a cat in the dark in such weather. It is really impossible to keep you here, sir." "H'm-m," said Donnegan. He began to feel that he was stumped, and it was a most unusual feeling for him. "Besides, for a young fellow like you, with your agility, what is eight miles?
The artist looked doubtful. "Can't I got see her?" said Uncle William. "I was wondering whether you could find the way." "H'm-m. Where'd you say it was?" "Eighteenth Street, near Broadway." "Eighteenth? That's somewheres between Seventeenth and Nineteenth, ain't it?" said Uncle William, dryly. "Yes." The artist smiled faintly. Uncle William nodded. "I thought so.
Can I smoke here?" Pulling her gold cigarette-case up with her chatelaine, she opened it, and selected a cigarette. "Certainly," said Laura, getting the matches from the bureau and putting them on the table. "Have one?" said her companion. "No, thank you," said Laura, sitting down so that she faced her companion. "H'm-m, h'm-m, hah!" sputtered Elfie, lighting her cigarette. "Now, go ahead.
He plays the MacDowell the 'Wandering Iceberg, you know." "H'm-m." Uncle William took down his spectacles to look at the youth through them. "You think he can do it all right? He ain't very hefty." The youth had seated himself. He struck a heavy, thundering chord on the keys and subsided. His hands hung relaxed at his sides and his eyes were fixed dreamily on the wall before him.
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