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Updated: June 7, 2025
Lecount took from her traveling-bag the written evidence to which she had just alluded, and carefully placed the papers on one side of him, within easy reach, if he wished to refer to them. Far from being daunted, she was visibly encouraged by the ungraciousness of his manner. Her experience of him informed her that the sign was a promising one.
"Have you got writing materials in the room, sir?" asked Mrs. Lecount. "Will you put them on the table, if you please?" While the writing materials were in process of collection, Mrs. Lecount made a new demand on the resources of her traveling-bag. She took two papers from it, each indorsed in the same neat commercial handwriting.
"Two thousand!" cried Noel Vanstone, with the courage of despair. Mrs. Lecount folded up her papers and hung her traveling-bag over her arm in contemptuous silence. "Three thousand!" Mrs. Lecount moved with impenetrable dignity from the table to the door. "Four thousand!" Mrs. Lecount gathered her shawl round her with a shudder, and opened the door. "Five thousand!"
Max's head and shoulders were visible. He was working industriously in the immediate vicinity of the safe door. Occasionally he consulted the small traveling-bag that stood on the desk. Many other professions had claimed Mr. Max before his advent into Reuton politics; evidently he was putting into operation the training acquired in one of them. Mr. Bland was nowhere in sight.
"Oh, Peter, is it about the play?" I gasped as I fairly hung on to his arm while he was languidly giving my traveling-bag to a footman. Peter looked like a literary version of what Sam called "the last of pea-time," which is a very vivid expression to a person who has just seen her poor peas drop away in the August garden. "What has happened?" "I care nothing more about the play, Betty.
"No, I do not," reply I, flatly. "I suppose he knows best what he likes himself; and why a strong, hearty man in the prime of life should be supposed to wish to spend a whole summer afternoon nodding in an arm-chair, any more than you would wish it yourself, I am at a loss to inquire!" The suggestion has irritated me so much that for the moment I forget the traveling-bag.
Bo manifested active symptoms of health in the manner with which she laced her boots. Helen got their traveling-bag, and with this they repaired to a flat stone beside the spring, not, however, out of earshot of the men. "How long are you goin' to hang around camp before tellin' me?" inquired Dale. "Jest as I figgered, Milt," replied Roy. "Thet rider who passed you was a messenger to Anson.
Why should I wait in the room that is still haunted by my horrible doubts of the night? I take up my traveling-bag; I leave my letters on the sitting-room table; and I descend the stairs to the house door. The night-porter at the hotel is slumbering in his chair. "Going to leave us already, sir?" he says, looking at the bag in my hand. Mad or sane, I am ready with my reply.
Once Miss Welland stopped to adjust her traveling-bag which had shifted a little in the straps. "Is riding cross-saddle uncomfortable for you?" asked Miss Van Arsdale. "Not in the least. I often do it at home." Suddenly her mount, a thick-set, soft-going pony shied, almost unseating her. A gun had banged close by. Immediately there was a second report.
When I stepped on shore at Rotterdam, my first proceeding was to ask my way to the English Consulate. I had but a small sum of money with me; and, for all I knew to the contrary, it might be well, before I did anything else, to take the necessary measures for replenishing my purse. I had my traveling-bag with me.
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