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Updated: June 18, 2025
The slightest suggestion that I thought he had stolen this scarab and he would do the Proud Old English Aristocrat and end everything. He's in the strongest position a thief has ever been in. You can't get at him." "I didn't think of that." "You don't think at all. That's the trouble with you," said Mr. Peters. Years of indigestion had made Mr.
He had no idea whether they kept early hours at Blandings Castle or not, but he deemed it prudent to give the household another hour in which to settle down. After which he would just trot down and collect the scarab. The novel he had brought down with him from London fortunately proved interesting. Two o'clock came before he was ready for it.
His long trails on the sand tell us of nocturnal rounds in search of big game, often the Pimelia, sometimes the Half-spotted Scarab. The find is not consumed on the spot. To enjoy it at his ease, he needs the peaceful darkness of the underground manor; and so the captive, seized by one leg with the pincers, is forcibly dragged along the ground. The Sacred Beetle and Others: chaps. ii. and vii.
Peters' scarab could be converted into an excellent tract, driving home the perils, even in this world, of absenting one's self from church on Sunday morning.
The radiating denticulations of the forehead, the insect's gambols in the bright sunlight? Was he not thinking rather of the symbol of Egypt, the Scarab who, on the pediment of the temples, lifts towards the sky, by way of a pill, a vermilion sphere, the image of the sun?
Then I heard Wilton's best English voice at the end of the study: "My dear sir, I have explained twenty times already, I wanted to get that scarab in time for dinner. Suppose you had left an important legal document in the same way?" "That touch of cunning is very significant," my fellow-practitioner since he insisted on it muttered.
I had not liked the looks cast at me by Inspector Bray, or his voice when he asked how I came to live in this house. I told myself I should not be safe until the real murderer of the poor captain was found; and so I began to puzzle over the few clues in the case especially over the asters, the scarab pin and the Homburg hat.
The shape of the trifle sent a wild hope through his brain. Groping through the dark, he found his lamp and lighted it with trembling hands. He held the lapis-lazuli signet! He did not move. He only grasped the scarab tightly and panted. The sudden change from intense suspense to intense relief had deprived him of the power of expression.
"For making music in my desert." "That's much better," she approved. "But you've paid your score with the orchids. If you have one or two more pretty speeches like that in stock, I might linger for a while." "I'm afraid I'm all out of those," he returned. "But," he added desperately, "there's the hexagonal scarab beetle. He's awfully queer and of much older family even than Mr. Fitzwhizzle's.
She slipped it off and held it out, showing a bruise across the back of her hand. "Allah!" whispered the man, "that I should mark thee thus and yet, in love in love!" He took the ring, of which the dull-gold setting held an emerald in the form of a scarab with heartshaped base. The fortune-teller turned it over in the palm of his hand, then held it out. "Nay, this I cannot take.
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