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Updated: May 18, 2025
He thinks, 'Where can I best put myself in order, and remove this witness? That would be his thought, and he would have the answer ready. He rode on to the edge of town, and there he stopped at Tom Mocket's." Major Edward left the window. As he passed his brother, he laid for a moment his hand upon the elder's shoulder. The touch was protective, almost tender. "It's a rough wind, Dick!
Bow your head and let it go over." He marched away, dragged a chair to the table, and sat down. "Very well," he said. "He stopped at Tom Mocket's." "Yes, but not merely at the gate, as he testified. He went into the house, and there he washed the blood-stain from his sleeve." "Can you prove that?" "I can prove that he went into the house. A negro, running from the storm, saw him enter.
She unfolded it. On the outside it was addressed in a hand that, had she thought, she would have recognised for Tom Mocket's, to an undistinguished person at Marietta upon the Ohio; within, the writing was her husband's and the address was to Aaron Burr.
Mocket's book, therefore, has a certain distinction which is all its own; but those who do not love the Church of England without it will hardly be led to such love by reading Mocket.
Few were afoot, though now and then a sleigh went by. Rand's mind as he walked was busy, not with the debate of to-morrow or the visitor of to-night, the Mathews trial or Tom Mocket's puerile schemes, but with the letter in the Gazette signed "Aurelius."
Smock, glanced at the superscriptions, and put them in his pocket, then walked to the Eagle and spoke to the hostler there, and finally, as the big red ball of the sun dipped behind the mountains, betook himself to Tom Mocket's small house on the edge of town. He found Vinie on the porch. "Is Adam here?" he asked. She nodded. "That's well," he said. "I want a talk with him a long talk.
The way to Mocket's lay down a steep hillside, and along the river-bank, under a drift of coloured leaves, and by the sound of falling water. Mocket dwelt in a small house, in a small green yard with a broken gate. A red creeper mantled the tiny porch, and lilac bushes, clucked under by a dozen hens, hedged the grassy yard.
There's news of some kind " It was so evident, when the horse and rider came to a stop before the church gate, that there was news of some kind, that the wedding guests, gentle and simple, left all talk and all employment to crowd the grassy space between the gate and the road and to demand enlightenment. Mocket's horse was spent, and Mocket's face was fiery red and eager.
The witness's voice, raised by suggestion of counsel to a higher note, came athwart Mocket's speculations. "I listened to Colonel Burr's mode of indemnity; and as I had by this time begun to suspect that the military expedition he had on foot was unlawful, I permitted him to believe myself resigned to his influence, that I might understand the extent and motive of his arrangements.
A red light yet burned in the west, but the trees were dark along the way, and the hollows filled with shadow. The dew was falling, the evening dank and charged with perfume. "I asked you to come with me," said Rand, "because I wanted to talk to some one out of the old life. Mocket's out of the old life too, he and Vinie. But " he laughed. "They're afraid of me. Vinie calls me 'thir."
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