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Updated: June 21, 2025
In the fulness of his powers, he had had scant time for women. Now, in his utter weakness And Olive The thread of light became a sudden flood. His hot, wet eyes shrank from the dazzle. "Did you speak, sir?" Ramsdell inquired, from the nearer threshold. Some sudden instinct of weakness made Opdyke long for the touch of any firm and friendly hand. "No, you old owl," he answered.
Certainly a suspicious circumstance. However, the question was one easily settled. If any one had approached by the balcony there would be marks in the snow to show it. Mr. Ramsdell had gone out to see. He would be coming back soon. "Do you think this a probable explanation of the crime?" I demanded of Mr. Durand at this juncture.
Ramsdell is convinced that you are working too hard, in this impossible weather." "Ramsdell is a chronic grumbler," Reed said disloyally. "I'm all right, Olive." She bent forward, her elbows on her knees, and stared down at him intently. "I'm not too sure of that, Reed. You are growing thin, and you look tired. No wonder, from what Mr. Duncan has told us. Is it quite worth while, though?"
He would not be likely to, yet the page was clear of all reference; only the name and the date. But the date! You have already noted its significance, and later he did, too. The day of the Ramsdell ball! The day of the great murder! As he recalled the incidents of that day he understood why the record of Wellgood's name was unaccompanied by the usual reference.
Durand has suspicions of his own," I explained determinedly to myself. "He met some one going in as he stepped out. Shall I ask him to name this person?" No, I did not have the courage; not while his face wore so stern a look and was so resolutely turned away. The next excitement was a request from Mr. Ramsdell for us all to go into the drawing-room.
Like a man knocked out in battle, he only had a dim realization that he had been shot down, pierced in some vital part. It would take him a long time to become aware of just the nature of his injury. In the next room, Ramsdell was busy with Mrs. Opdyke, very busy, as Olive saw, once she crossed the threshold.
At nine o'clock, he rose, dived into his breast pocket and pulled out a little case. An instant later, he had bent above the couch. "Now, Ramsdell," he said cheerily, when he had once more tucked the rug in about Opdyke's arm; "you'd better get this fellow into bed at once. If he isn't sound asleep, inside an hour, you'll know what to do.
Despite her consternation, Olive laughed. "Can't you make him stop it, Ramsdell?" "Impossible, Miss Keltridge. When it comes to that I'm nothing but another man. What Mr. Hopdyke needs now is a woman to manage 'im and cocker 'im up a bit. In spite of all his work and that, he's away off on 'is nerve." "How does he show it, Ramsdell?"
No moral force would be able to dislodge his guest; and Ramsdell could not well be summoned, to pluck forth the rector's lady and escort her, willy-nilly, to the outer door. But Katharine's pause had ended. "But now I feel that it would be wrong for me to neglect the chance to sow my little seed in the soil so plainly harrowed for its growth. Mr.
Stoker bunted, letting Butters down to second while he was being thrown out at first. Merwin got a Texas leaguer, on which Butters took a chance foolishly, it seemed and was saved by a wild throw to the pan that let him slide under the catcher. "Now, Mr. Grant is getting his mum-medicine," grinned Springer joyfully. But Grant, resorting to his wonderful drop, struck out both Ramsdell and Oakes.
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