Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 1, 2025
Fitz-Gerald Mr. Thaxter, Mrs. Celia Thaxter Letter to Miss Hickey; 'Strafford' Shakspere and Wordsworth Societies Letters to Professor Knight Appreciation in Italy; Professor Nencioni The Goldoni Sonnet Mr. Barrett Browning; Palazzo Manzoni Letters to Mrs. Charles Skirrow Mrs.
Now, if only he could find out who on earth they were supposed to be, they might yet escape from the predicament into which they had fallen. "Now let's introduce ourselves," went on their new acquaintance, evidently not the least bit suspicious now. "My name's Bob Harding. Which of you chaps is Con Divver?" "Right here," said Jack, motioning to Walt. "And Jim Hickey and Ted Rafter?"
With a smothered exclamation, Maitland hurried away, still incredulous and impressed with a belief, firmer with every minute, that the wounded man had been wrongly identified. He found him as Hickey had said he would, sobbing out his life, supine upon the couch of an office which the janitor had opened to afford him a place to die in.
I can feel them yet. And besides, Hickey has a gang about him that make it unsafe for any man to go there in health, much less in sickness. Why, the stories they tell are perfectly awful. A fellow goes in with his month's pay. In one night his fifty or sixty dollars are gone, no one knows how. The poor chap is drunk, and he cannot tell.
Get up and let's hike it to the nearest homestead." Shading his eyes as he gazed earnestly over the plain, he added: "I see smoke in the distance. It can't be far off. Come " Suddenly, to his astonishment, Hickey leaped to his feet, with an agility unheard of in one so nearly dying. Pointing to the nearest kopjie, he shouted hoarsely: "Look! There's a man near that kopjie he's coming this way!"
This done, the chauffeur was again hurled back at Jerry. For some time the two sailors kept this up. It was rough, heavy punishment. Gaston bellowed like a sick bull under all the strenuous handling. He must have ached in every bone in his body when Hickey finally caught him, on a rebound, and held him off at arm's length. "Had about enough, Frenchy?" demanded the big sailor.
"A table for two," he drawled Maitland-wise, "In a corner somewhere, away from the crowd, you know." "This way, if you please, Mr. Maitland." "By the way," suggested the burglar, unfolding his serviette and glancing keenly about the room, which, by good chance, was thinly populated, "by the way, you know, you haven't told me your name yet." "Hickey John W. Hickey, Detective Bureau." "Thank you."
The New Englander had separated from the others, and taken a peek over the edge of the ancient sacrificial device, to ascertain what had caused the sudden alarm of the Mexican. What he had seen had caused his amazed exclamation. "What's that?" came the bull-throated roar of Hickey, "two men in that brick pile?" "That's whatsoever.
"Let me tell you before you leave my house for good," said Father Hickey, who seemed to have become unreasonably angry, "that you should never have crossed my threshold if I had known you were a spy: no, not if your uncle were his Holiness the Pope himself." Here a frightful thing happened to me. I felt giddy, and put my hand on my head. Three warm drops trickled over it.
Sam Hickey flung open the big doors and revealed the interior of the shed with the two scarab-like monoplanes standing within. A strong smell of gasoline and machine-oil filled the air. The officer glanced at Peggy's dainty figure in astonishment. It seemed hard to associate this refined, exquisite young girl with the rough actualities of machinery and aeroplanes.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking