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Updated: May 11, 2025
His brow loomed heavy, like Tragedy's own mask, and it grew ever blacker while the scene went on. Hiram Cole whispered me, "He'll kill himself afore he's done with it. He's gone in for the whole hog, but he 'ain't growed to it, as Old Josh had. The Marden blood run emptin's afore it got to him."
"I'll only take what's fair," said the girl. "I vote we give it all to her," rolled out Tempest in tragedy's tone for classic satire. Before Mabel could hurl at him the probably coarse retort she instantly got her lips ready to make, Burlingham's cool, peace-compelling tones broke in: "Miss Sackville's right. She must get only what's fair. She shares equally from tonight on less two dollars."
It is the Comedy of speech that forever dwells as Tragedy's fondest sister, sharing with her the same unmarked domain; for the two are but identical forces of the mind in gentle and in ungentle action as one atmosphere holds within itself unseparated the zephyr and the storm.
I tell you, Mac, old chap, if you want to have a good night's rest, go in for comic work, but if you want to lie awake and think, tragedy's your trade. Nerves all on edge. Overwrought. Terrible thing, tragedy! Isn't it, Dolly?" Mrs. Cream moaned slightly and twisted about on the sofa. "Too much talk!" she murmured. "All right, my dear, all right.
She put new and accurate meaning into facts time and time again, speaking with the particularity and vividness of an eye-witness. "Now," she said, having reconstructed the crime and described the subsequent behaviour of the tragedy's principal actors; "now who's guilty?" "Exactly," echoed Crown, with a click in his throat. "Who's guilty? What's your theory?"
Up to the present it had been difficult to ascribe to each circumstance its own proper value; but now they were beginning to shape themselves into some semblance of order, and for the first time a fairly complete concept of the tragedy's enactment irresistibly presented itself to me.
For a moment, sick with horror and unutterable woe, she stood there alone against the tawdry curtain, as wide-eyed and white-faced as Tragedy's muse. Men, women, and children, all the folks of Egypt, were struggling to their feet; the sliding settees squawked and clattered. She saw Tasper Britt, fighting a path for himself, Starr following. Britt's face, above his blackened beard, was yellow-pale.
He had a whim for dabbling in such puzzles as my calling now and then brought me face to face with; and before I got through with Mr. I carried the removal permit to Mr. Ulysses White, and then betook myself to a more thorough examination of the tragedy's surroundings. First of all, I went again to the untidy bedroom and the closet above the concealed safe.
Her frame shook, and she raised to his gaze a countenance suddenly changed into Tragedy's own. "I don't know why," she said, in a stricken voice, "but of them all that I kissed good-by that night I now see only Molly. I suppose she was about as old as I am when they killed her. We were always together. I can't remember her face very clearly; only her eyes, and how red her lips were.
It would seem to be the converging point of the tragedy's every moving current. We were about to give it up in despair, when I started forward with a wordless cry. The bar of yellow soap was gone! On the instant the import of this discovery flashed into my mind. How blind and dull I had been! A bit of manipulation under the water-tap had removed all traces.
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