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The moment he had disappeared Kennedy seized the opportunity he had been waiting for. He picked up the green robe and examined the collar and neck very carefully under the least dim of the lights in the room. He seemed to find what he wished, yet he continued to examine the robe until the sound of returning footsteps warned him to lay it down again. He had not been quite quick enough.
Returning to the Spray, where I found all secure, I prepared for an early start in the morning. It was agreed that the steamer should blow her whistle for me if first on the move. I watched the steamer, off and on, through the night for the pleasure alone of seeing her electric lights, a pleasing sight in contrast to the ordinary Fuegian canoe with a brand of fire in it.
It was a hot afternoon in July, and high up in the gallery the summer sunshine streamed through an open window full upon the blazing lights of the central chandelier, a straight, square beam of yellow gold thrown across a white fire, and clearly seen through it. It was still afternoon when the dress rehearsal began, but the night would have come when it ended.
Considering himself as fitted as any other for the apparition business and the mystery industry, he decided to turn “honest broker” between the powers of this world and those of the next, basing his credit with the former on that which he claimed with the latter. He joined the Rosicrucians, and soon became one of the leading lights of the Order.
And with the lights burning on its breast, as Sissy saw them in her half-waking visions, the express rushed southward across the level blackness of the land, beneath the arch of midnight sky. Quand on a trouvé ce qu'on cherchait, on n'a pas le temps de le dire: il faut mourir.
At night sometimes we saw from our balcony one of those freschi, which once formed the chief splendor of festive occasions in Venice, and are peculiar to the city, where alone their fine effects are possible. The fresco is a procession of boats with music and lights.
Behind the velvet curtain, the voice of Conner wrestled faintly with the telephone and all about them great lights glowed on the walls; they lighted the great staircase that swept mistily up, and the figure of Achilles mounting slowly in the stately, lonely house, the child in his arms.
At almost the same moment the lights were switched on, and a voice was heard calling. "Is there a doctor in the house?" It was Mr. Baker, and Duvall, who stood beside him, sprang forward at once. "I am a doctor," he cried, and approached the place where the woman sat. "Can I be of any assistance?" Grace asked. "I am a trained nurse." "Yes," replied Duvall, quickly.
After a while, both calmer grown, they looked again from the high window. "See!" exclaimed the engineer, and pointed. There, far away to westward, a few straggling lights only a very few slowly and uncertainly were making their way across the broad black breast of the river. Even as the man and woman watched, one vanished. Then another winked out, and did not reappear.
With all lights out and seemingly in absolute security, the chief factor's store and house, built of whitewashed stone, stood in the centre of the inner courtyard.
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