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Updated: June 13, 2025
When they drove away they carried the contents of the black carpet-bag stowed away under the seat. The following day, about ten o'clock in the morning, a man in a derby hat and with a pair of handcuffs in his outside pocket showed Muffles a paper he took from his coat, and the two went off to the city.
"If he turns them back we ought to hear their horses in a moment," observed Claiborne. "The fog muffles sounds. The road's pretty level in here." "We must get them out of it and into my territory for safety. We're within a mile of the gate and we ought to be able to crowd them into that long open strip where the fences are down. Damn the fog!"
Looping this round the body of the sorceress, and taking a few turns of it about her arms and ankles, he spreads his poncho over her head, then knots the rope around her neck, and so muffles her beyond the chance of either hearing or making herself heard.
The smile of intense gratitude which permeated his face a "thank-God-you-have-saved-me-from-starvation" smile, was part of the evening's enjoyment. He wears the dime now on his watch-chain; he says it is the only money he ever earned by his music; to which one of his club-friends added, "Or in your life." Since that time I have been persona grata to Muffles.
But now that my first faintness is removed and the mystery of muffles is solved, may I inquire just what you are doing up here to-day, Miss Gwynne? What is the business on hand, I mean?" "Oh, Nora is getting out some logs for building and firewood for next winter. The logs, you see, are cut during the winter and hauled to the dump there." "Dump!" exclaimed Mr. Romayne faintly. "Yes.
Often a number of these combinations would meet in Muffles's back room and a quiet little game would last until daylight. The orders then were for quarts, not pints. On one of these nights the Captain of the Precinct was present in plain clothes. I learned this from Bowser from behind his hand. One night Muffles was awakened by a stone thrown at his bedroom window.
Muffles had gone on from bad to worse; the place had been sold out by his partners; Muffles had become a drunkard, and, worse than all, the indictment against him had been pressed for trial despite the Captain's efforts, and he had been sent to the Island for a year for receiving and hiding stolen goods.
I tell you there isn't a pugilist in England cares to stand up to him with the muffles, or bare knuckles!" "Probably because there are no pugilists left in England, worth the name," said Barnabas. "Gad, sir! we are all pugilists nowadays the Manly Art is all the fashion and, I think, a very excellent fashion.
White hair he has, and white whiskers, and muffles himself up with all manner of shawls. He comes back again the same afternoon, and we never see more of him for three months. He is a captain in the navy retired wery old wery odd and served with Lord Nelson. He is particular about drawing his pension at Somerset House afore the clock strikes twelve every quarter.
When Muffles returned that same night I had heard he was in trouble and waited for his return he nodded to me with a smile, and said: "It's all right. Pipes went bail." He didn't stop, but walked through to the back room. There he put his arms around his wife. She had sat all day at the window watching for his return, so Bowser told me.
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