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Updated: June 18, 2025
"I didn't see it go. I'll ask one of the boys." As assistant porter who had been in the street told a surprising tale. A gentleman had come up out of the murk, had paid off the taxi, which had disappeared. The witness to this proceeding had not seen the gentleman's face.
There was a serious expression in her face, and Murk looked past her at Kate Gilbert, who was being greeted by Sidney Prale. Something important had happened, Murk told himself immediately. Kate Gilbert did not look frightened exactly or sorrowful or triumphant. There was a peculiar expression about her mouth, and her face seemed pale. "I felt that I had to come, Mr.
Flitcroft turn his morning face at eight o'clock antemeridian Monday, as he hied himself to his daily duty at the Washington National Bank. Yet more than the merely funereal gloomed out from the hillocky area of his countenance. Was there not, i'faith, a glow, a Vesuvian shimmer, beneath the murk of that darkling eye? Was here one, think you, to turn the other cheek?
Let us hope that we find our man at home. If this happens to be his opera or theater evening, we are going to be delayed." Murk followed him down in the elevator and to the street, where Prale engaged a taxicab. The machine took them up past the Park and to an exclusive residence section, where it stopped on a corner. Prale and Murk got out, and Prale instructed the chauffeur to wait.
The tinker completed first-aid to the harness, and stood at the front of the cart to light his lamps. The first match blew out, and he came closer to the body of the vehicle for shelter from the wind. At that moment a pedestrian passed, humming a little tune to himself, striding along through the November murk with swinging gait.
It seemed to the figure in the bed as he struggled against rising tides of torpor and exhaustion that his own resolution was waning with the firelight and that the murk of death approached with the thickening shadows. He craved only sleep yet knew that it meant death.
But how came those devils to let you off so easy? We figured we'd have to fight to get you, and mighty lucky to do it at that!" The schooner had come into the wind again and was heading westward in pursuit of the pirate, now hidden in the murk ahead. Bob was helped to the cabin and propped up in a bunk while his friends hastened to get some dry clothes on him.
The very night seemed peopled by phantoms; I sped past phantom wains and waggons, piled high with phantom loads, that moved with no sound of hoofs or wheels; spectral horsemen flitted by, soundless; in the shadow of hissing hedgerow and raving, wind-tossed trees crawled miserable, nebulous shapes, seen but to be lost again, swallowed in the howling murk.
After that we went to Mr. Prale's hotel and up to his rooms. We got to bed pretty quick." "What time did you reach the hotel?" "About midnight." "What happened after you went to bed?" "Went to sleep," said Murk. "Never mind the jokes," the captain rebuked sternly. "Well, I stayed awake about an hour or so thinking how lucky I was, and then I went to sleep.
Suddenly some awakened instinct in the numbed brain of the scout told him of a change in their surroundings. He felt rather than saw the difference. They had crossed the sand belt, and the contour of the prairie was rising. Then the Cimarron was near! Even as the conviction took shape, the ghostly outline of a small elevation loomed through the murk.
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