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Hewitt's dogma received its illustration unexpectedly close at home. The old house wherein my chambers and Hewitt's office were situated contained, besides my own, two or three more bachelors' dens, in addition to the offices on the ground and first and second floors. At the very top of all, at the back, a fat, middle-aged man, named Foggatt, occupied a set of four rooms.
He looked keenly in the man's eyes, but the only expression there was one of surprise. "Got ut?" said the Irishman. "Got fwhat, sor? Is ut you're thinkin' I've got the horrors, as well as the polis?" Hewitt's gaze relaxed. "Sit down, sit down!" he said. "You've still got your watch and money, I suppose, since you weren't robbed?" "Oh, that?
They repeatedly said they had nothing to do with any but the inhabitants, and did not want to treat with me. Colonel Dennison, by desire of the inhabitants, went and complied, which made it necessary for me and the little remains of Captain Hewitt's company to leave the place.
Mother Hewitt then blew out the candle, and groping her way to the door of the cellar that opened on the street, went out, shutting down the heavy door behind her, and leaving the child alone in that dark and noisome den alone in its foul and wet garments, but, thanks to kindly drugs, only partially conscious of its misery. Mother Hewitt's first visit was to the nearest dram-shop.
Had captured the Third Minnesota Infantry, and part of Hewitt's First Kentucky Battery. At first, this report was doubted, but in the end proved true. From certain rumors current in camp, it was supposed that a force of the enemy were in the vicinity of Wartrace, and an attack was apprehended at any moment. At dark struck our tents, harnessed our horses, and made all preparation to meet the enemy.
He was a rather stupid countryman, this policeman, but he was visibly impressed even flurried by Hewitt's elaborate bumptiousness. He saluted, tried to look unnaturally sagacious, and confessed that he couldn't exactly say where the inspector was, things being put about so just now. He might be in Throckham village, but more likely he was at Redfield. "Ah!" Hewitt replied, with condescension.
"Hewitt's murdered and his papers stolen, that's all." He turned his back again and sat down with a thud; his square shoulders were shaking. Harold March darted out of the doorway into the back garden with its steep slope of statues. The first thing he saw was Doctor Prince, the detective, peering through his spectacles at something on the ground; the second was the thing he was peering at.
Phillimore denies it altogether, has in fact quarrelled with Christopher North, and writes no more for him, so that I am quite at a loss now where to carry my gratitude. Do write to me soon. I hear that everybody should read Dr. You have read, perhaps, Hewitt's 'Visits to Remarkable Places' in the first series and second; and Mrs.
Just as she was on the point of dropping off to sleep, with the wind blowing, flower-scented, across her face, she remembered something that made her sit bolt upright in bed and think. There was going to be a grand affair for her at Mrs. Hewitt's house the very next night, and she hadn't a blessed thing to wear!
And his master would only have been looking for him." It was, of course, always a part of Martin Hewitt's business to be thoroughly at home among any and every class of people, and to be able to interest himself intelligently, or to appear to do so, in their various pursuits.