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Updated: June 5, 2025
It was plain that Nellie had never thought of any such possibility as this, for the light died out of her eyes. "How can I find out whether it's good or not?" she faltered. "Let me look at it!" said Mr. Shrimplin. Mrs. Montgomery placed the bill in his hands. Her face was keen and pinched with anxiety as she awaited the little man's verdict.
Shrimplin, speaking after a long silence. He tilted his head and took a comprehensive survey of the heavens. "Well, we're going to have a fine day for the hanging," he observed, with the manner of a connoisseur. "Why won't they let no one see it?" demanded Custer. "It's to be strictly private. I don't know but what that's best; it's some different though from the hangings I'm used to." And Mr.
Shrimplin drove that trusty beast up to the lamp-post on the corner of High Street, when suddenly and for no apparent reason Bill settled back in the shafts and exhibited unmistakable, though humiliating symptoms of fright. "Go on, you!" cried Mr.
As he came rapidly into the red glare of Mr. Shrimplin's hissing torch that hero was exceeding well pleased to recognize a friendly face. "How are you, Mr. North!" he said, and John North halted suddenly. "Oh, it's you, Shrimp! A nasty night, isn't it?" "It's the suffering human limit!" rejoined Mr. Shrimplin with feeling.
"Had he been drinking?" he asked in a low tone. "I don't know," said the colonel. "Shrimplin has gone for Mrs. Langham I think they are here now. Don't let her come up until I have made my examination. Will you see to this?" And the colonel quitted the room and hurried down-stairs. As he gained the floor below, Evelyn entered the house. "How is Marsh, Colonel Harbison?" she asked.
One point is quite clear, however, and that is the hour when the crime was committed. We can fix that almost to a certainty. The murderer did his work between half past five and six o'clock. Mr. Shrimplin has just informed us that the only person he saw on the Square, until he met Colonel Harbison, was John North, whom he encountered within a block of McBride's store and with whom he spoke.
Shrimplin with increasing benevolence. "Some one has been killed!" "You done it!" cried Custer. "I found the party," admitted Mr. Shrimplin with calm dignity. "Oh!" But perhaps Custer's first emotion was on the whole one of disappointment. "How you talk!" said Mrs. Shrimplin. "I reckon I might say more, most any one would," retorted Mr. Shrimplin quietly.
His ears caught the murmur of approval that passed from lip to lip and out of the very tail of his bleached eyes he noted the expression of satisfaction that was on every face. Even the previously obdurate landlord met him with words of apology and conciliation. It was a happy moment for Mr. Shrimplin, but not by so much as the flicker of an eyelash did he betray that this was so.
Shrimplin, and paused to clear his throat. He was walking beside wild Bill's head while Custer in the cart tried to support Langham, for the latter had not regained consciousness. "Custer, I'm mighty well satisfied with you; I may say that while I always been proud of you, I am prouder this moment than I ever hoped to be!
"It's genu-ine all right," he at length admitted grudgingly. "I knew it was!" cried Nellie, her miserable suspicions put at rest. "Well, you'd better spend it quick and get some good of it before old Joe comes back and wants the change!" advised Mr. Shrimplin. "What does he say?" questioned Mrs. Shrimplin. "He don't say a word, there was nothing but the bill."
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