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Updated: June 20, 2025
His right hand sought the pocket into which the revolver had fallen. "You honor my poor and drafty house," said Mr. Magee. "This way." He mounted the stairs. After him followed the youth of flashy habiliments, looking fearfully about him as he went. He seemed surprised that they came to Magee's room without incident. Inside, Mr.
In the name of the law, I command you to tell me her destination, and what she proposes to do with that package of greenbacks." The woman blinked stupidly in the dusk. "She ain't my daughter," she replied, and Mr. Magee's heart leaped up. "I can tell you that much. I keep a boarding-house in Reuton and Miss the girl you speak about has been my boarder for three years.
Why had it all happened, anyhow? Confound it, hadn't he come up here to be alone with his thoughts? But, brighter side, it had given him her or it would give him her before the last card was played. He shut his teeth tightly, and went down the stairs. Mr. Bland had added himself to the group about the fire. Quickly the eyes of Miss Norton met Magee's. She was trembling with excitement.
The wind roared lustily at the windows. The firelight flickered redly on the faces of Mr. Magee's prisoners. In Upper Asquewan Falls the clock on the old town hall struck nine. Mr. Magee, on guard in Baldpate's dreary office, counted the strokes. She must be half-way down the mountain now perhaps at this very moment she heard Quimby's ancient gate creaking in the wind.
If there was, I wouldn't think of it. Yes, I'll stay and do what I can to boost the hermit life in your estimation. He stopped. His eyes were on the dining-room door, toward which Mr. Magee's back was turned. The jaw of Peters fell, and his mouth stood wide open. Behind the underbrush of beard a very surprised face was discernible. Mr. Magee turned quickly.
It's too much even for melodramatic me." He leaned back in his chair. "Anyhow, I like her eyes," he said. "And I shouldn't want to be quoted as disapproving of her hair, either. I'm on her side, whichever it may be." "I wonder," Miss Norton smiled up into Mr. Magee's face, "if you ever watched the people at a summer hotel get set on their mark for the sprint through the dining-room door?"
Magee's aspect was decidedly pleasing. Young Williams, who posed at the club as a wit, had once said that Billy Magee came as near to being a magazine artist's idea of the proper hero of a story as any man could, and at the same time retain the respect and affection of his fellows. Mr. Magee thought he read approval in the lone eye of blue.
Cargan, huge, red, cheery, got in Magee's path once more. "I'll annihilate this man," thought Magee. "I've been figuring," said the mayor, "that was one thing he didn't have to contend with. No, sir, there wasn't any bright young men hunting up old Napoleon and knocking him in the monthly magazines.
Magee's ken, suggested winter at its most wintry. About the great black shape that was the inn, like arms, stretched broad verandas. Mr. Magee remarked upon them to his companion. "Those porches and balconies and things," he said, "will come in handy in cooling the fevered brow of genius." "There ain't much fever in this locality," the practical Quimby assured him, "especially not in winter."
Magee interrupted to engage Lou Max in spirited conversation. For, through the squares of light outside the windows, he had seen the girl of the station pass hurriedly down the balcony, the snowflakes falling white on her yellow hair. An hour passed. Mr. Max admitted when pressed that a good cigar soothed the soul, and accepted another from Magee's stock. The professor continued to talk.
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