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Updated: May 16, 2025
Was that it, Tessibel?" he cross-questioned. "Yes." The murmured answer was scarcely audible. "One of the squatters, then?" The red head sank again. This time a decided shake of the shining curls made the denial. Hoping to avoid further examination, the girl tried to rise to her feet, but the questioner's hand pressed her back. "Don't ask me," she entreated. "I'm better now."
This cross-examination appeared to me to be a useless farce; and yet there was a certain eagerness and intensity in my questioner's manner which gave me the assurance that he had some end in view. Was it merely that he wished to gain time? Time for what?
"Yes, it's quite true, Wilhelm Warshauer is a sub-inspector of police in Berlin. But I feel sure he is a perfectly respectable man." She fortunately did not see the expression which flashed across her questioner's face. Not so the Dean. Mr. Reynolds' look stirred Dr. Haworth to a certain indignation.
"Come in, boys," Mrs. Brown nodded at the men. "Tea's ready. What's it going to be?" "Fine, I think," said Boone, replying to this somewhat indefinite question with complete certainty as to the questioner's meaning. "I seen you an' Murty pokin' your heads up at them clouds, but there ain't nothin' in them." A smile spread over his good-looking, dark face.
"My guv'nor left it to me when he croaked." His questioner's eyelids were raised the merest shade in non-comprehension of the vernacular. "Your governor," he said slowly as if seeking a key to relationship. Josef smiled. The latter's exultation was that of one enjoying a possible misconstruction which might attend a literal interpretation of what he knew was idiomatic.
For a while the two sitters gave the perfect scene the tribute of a perfect silence, and then the General asked, as he cautiously straightened his impaired frame, "Has not Isabel been making some eh news for herself and us?" The lady's lips parted for their peculiar laugh of embarrassment, but the questioner's smile was so serious that she forced her sweetest gravity.
"Do you think now," said the Attorney-General, insinuatingly, "you could make me see the beauty of that picture?" "No," said Whistler, after closely scrutinizing his questioner's face. "Do you know, I fear it would be as hopeless as for the musician to pour his notes into a deaf man's ear." "What is that structure in the middle?" asked the irritated attorney. "Is it a telescope or a fire-escape?
"Dining room closes at two; supper at six." "Do you mean to say that you serve nothing between the hours of two and six?" "Serve you a drink, if you like," with an understanding grin at his questioner's dusty knapsack.
"I don't know what you are talking about," he stabbed. "What is the meaning of all this? Who is this unfortunate, and why did everyone disappear as though I had the plague when I sat next to him?" A look of bewilderment swept over the massive face, bewilderment tinged with a dawning suspicion of the questioner's sanity. "You mean to say you don't know?" The tone held incredulity.
Then Gifford saw his eyes seek hers as he added: "Where was it found? Near the tower?" The covert malice of the insinuation was plain in the questioner's look, although the tone was casual enough. "No. On the lawn," Gifford replied quietly. Nothing more of importance happened that day at Wynford, and Gifford had no further opportunity of private talk with Edith Morriston.
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