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The man staggered back, clapping a hand to his head, where, it seemed to him, the bullet from the pistol had been aimed. The man brought up against the rear wall of the cabin, beside the fireplace; and he leaned against it, his face ghastly with fright, his lips working soundlessly. The little man cowered, plainly expecting Lawler would shoot him, too.
"Maybe it's Glass; maybe it isn't. Wonder how many there are. Anyway, I'll fix this one." Soft-footed as a great cat, he crept toward the voice. The man loomed in front of him; his back was turned. Sandy rose soundlessly behind him. With a sudden vicious sweep his left arm shot across the stranger's left shoulder and around his throat.
His hand froze to the butt of the automatic as he drew back from the cleft in the wall, and, staring, whirled about, ready to shoot on the second. Then he started back. His jaw dropped, his eyes widened and limply fell his arm. The pistol swung loosely at his side. "You? " he soundlessly breathed, "You here?"
I saw the funeral procession of the girl winding its way by the light of paper lanterns the wan dead glow that is like a shimmer of phosphorescence to the Street of the Temples, followed by a long train of women, white-hooded, white-robed, white-girdled, passing all soundlessly a troop of ghosts.
"Didn't you?" Cleek laughed soundlessly. "Look here. Remember the man Bill Jones, and his little pal Sammie Robinson, from Jamaica?"
His lids shut of themselves as he softly mounted the steps. It seemed a needlessly wide door that soundlessly admitted him. But however hard he pressed the key his bedroom door remained stubbornly shut until he found that it was already unlocked and he had only to turn the handle. A night-light burned in a little basin on the washstand. The room was hung, as it were, with the stillness of night.
A few minutes after four o'clock the figure of a woman suddenly appeared soundlessly in the arch under the stables; and after standing there a moment advanced along the front of the houses till she reached the third door. She stood here a moment in silence, listening and looking towards the doorway opposite, and then rapped gently with her finger-nail eleven or twelve times.
On the deck, at the extreme left, where it is not perceptible from the street or the shop, is another tiny ladder which reaches to the ceiling. If you stand on the ladder and press against the ceiling directly over it, a well-oiled trap door will open soundlessly and lead you into Lola's bedroom above the shop.
Secondly, a white eider-down quilt at least, that was what it seemed like descended lightly as as an eider quilt, and as soundlessly, out of the blue-black sky, and covered the brown rat up.
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