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Updated: May 16, 2025
On closer view this proved to be the steel safe in which the gold had been placed. On opening the receptacle, everything was found intact, a fact which the makers of the safe are now using as a testimonial, as you may have noticed as you passed their Broadway store. The testimonial is signed by Conrad Geisler, who is now Mr. Merrill's partner.
"Something the color of Merrill's," and a director began stroking his hair nervously. "No, no; darker than Merrill's," broke in Kirkpatrick. "Isn't it, Knapp?" "Why, I was going to say lighter," admitted the cashier, discouragedly. "Never mind," I sighed. "Forget the hair. Come on what color are his eyes?" "Blue," said Whipple. "Gray," said Knapp. "Brown," said Kirkpatrick.
He, too, had pulled himself together; this smile was not muscular contraction. "One or two, and the fat would be in the fire." Nobody added anything to this. But now the other three considered Ralph Addington's words with the same effort towards concentration that they had brought to Frank Merrill's.
"I think I can venture to use some of it now. I'll go round to Merrill's and see what he's got in the way of pants." Accordingly he strolled into Merrill's that evening. "Got any new cloths in, Merrill?" asked Luke. "I've got some new cloths for pants." "That's just what I want." "You're owing me a bill." "How much is it?" "Some over thirty dollars."
Merrill's answer was to take her hand and pat it. He sat down on the millstone and drew a deep breath of that sparkling air and sighed, for his memory ran back to his own innocent boyhood in the New England country. He talked to Cynthia until Jethro came.
And Cynthia kept them every one, and read them over on such occasions when she felt that she could not live another minute out of sight of her mountain. Such was the state of affairs one gray afternoon in December when Cynthia, who was sitting in Mrs. Merrill's parlor, suddenly looked up from her book to discover that two young men were in the room.
It did not seem possible that she could be the same person, with her dark, revengeful face, her contracted brow, fiercely gleaming eyes, and that cruel, bitter curl upon her lips, who, in all the glory of her beauty and powers of fascination, had been the centre of attraction in Alexander Merrill's elegant residence less than two hours previous.
And while she tried to wipe the tears away she felt Mrs. Merrill's arm about her, and heard that lady say: "We'll try to make you very happy, my dear, and send you back safely in the spring." An attempt will be made in these pages to set down such incidents which alone may be vital to this chronicle, now so swiftly running on. The reasons why Mr.
"Certainly, and the invalid husband also," she retorted, with a short, reckless laugh. "I had a purpose, too, in calling the elder Mr. Palmer's attention to the profusion of diamonds worn by Mrs. Vanderheck upon the evening of Mrs. Merrill's reception. You can understand why, perhaps," she added, sarcastically, and turning to the detective.
This I did at a great risk of my life, for these soldiers were very arrogant and consequential at having a little brief authority, and I was afraid they would not hesitate to shoot on slight provocation. I felt provoked and disgusted that I had to take such a risk to enter my own house. When I returned, Mr. Merrill's house had been dynamited, and the two churches, St.
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