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As he passed, one of the sailors doffed his cap and bowed with great respect. "That's not the admiral, Alphonse," whispered another of the crew, chuckling. "It's only his privit secretary." "Ah, I haf meestake!" But Alphonse had made no mistake. He knew who it was. His mates did not see the smile of irony, of sly ridicule, which stirred his lips as he bowed to the passer.
A few seconds later the hidden boys heard the door of the French teacher's room open, and saw him come out. "It is some meestake," they heard him murmur. "Zis ees for Professor Grimm. I will take it to heem," and he walked along the corridor toward the elderly instructor's apartment. "Act one," whispered Sam. "Now for the second."
I hate to be bothered with passengers going off " and the Captain walks to the railing to wave his hand with stiff pomposity to a Mexican who sits in the lighter. "You air meestake, Captain," says the Baron de Bach; "all dthose vorkmen say it vill be two days loading dthis café." The Captain, never very good-tempered at the best of times, is especially peppery to-day.
"Aye, mon, it sairves me weel," said Mr Macdougall, feeling the ridge of his nasal organ with much apparent satisfaction, and then proceeding to finish his statement. "But I could no meestake the smeel, the noo." "Something burning, I suppose?" said the skipper interrogatively. "You're right, Cap'en; the smeel was that o' boornin' wood and gas." "What did you do then?" asked Captain Billings.
"Ah, mademoiselle, you make one grand meestake. I ask for a small box to keep your medicine in, zat it make no smell." From the woman's lie, and from the fact that she was redolent with camphor, and that she kept as far away as possible, near the windows, Christine gathered a most painful confirmation of her fears. For a time she lay almost paralyzed by dread.
He seemed to me ten years younger as he stood there, and as I dropped my load and went in he was laughing, and his hand was laid pleasantly on my shoulder. Across the cot, with his head stretched down to the floor, his eyes bulging and his jaws agape, lay Joseph Brecht. I sprang to him. He was dead. And then I SAW Gentlemen, he had been choked to death! "He made one leetle meestake, mon pere.
Then, as he smoked, a look of malice came on his face. "No, I not meestake. Dat man fire zee shots. I sure of dat; an' by Gar! I get heem one of dese days, an' I make heem pay for it, good an' plenty. Mais I wonder why he shoot? I wonder eef zee white mees, she knew?"
"BIEN! Then I tell you w'at Concombre Bateese ees goin' do wit' you, M'sieu Sergent de Police! MA BELLE Jeanne she mak' wan gran' meestake. She too much leetle bird heart, too much pity for want you to die.
I got only to see a horse once once only and I'm never forgettin' thot horse! And I'm makin' no meestake now bet you' life!" Nevertheless, flicked with doubt because of the gravity of the other, he turned his head and gazed back at the horse long and earnestly. Finally he turned around again. "I know thot horse!" he yelled.
Do you know anything about her?" "Never! No!" answered Pietro, with the perfect candor of an accomplished liar. "Have you ever seen her Highness?" "When she so," indicating a height about two feet from the ground. "You said that you had never seen her." "Meestake." "How old would she be?" Pietro wrinkled his brow, "Oh, quaranta, cinquanta; fifty-forty. Who knows?" "Fifty!
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