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Updated: June 5, 2025
And here is Hoteï's wife, the goddess-queen Yoka herself the real masquerader behind that mystic veil which has so enveloped and bemuddled the mind of poor Wilderspin. She is to figure in the first number of The Caricaturist.
You have flung insults and epithets at me enough to earn the cutting of a dozen throats. You have dubbed me cheat and thief" he choked in his passion "until you have had your fill is it not so? Now, listen to me, Master Bardelys, master spy, master buffoon, master masquerader! What manner of proceeding was yours to go to Lavedan under a false name? How call you that?
Turning up the collar of his dress coat so as to hide his white shirt front, the masquerader buckled on the sabre that Fred handed to him. Without changing his trousers he put on his riding boots and spurs, which with the busby and cloak, a pair of white kid gloves, and a small blond moustache completed his disguise.
"Somebody calling you by 'phone. They're holding the wire outside. I'll show you the booth." "Oh, will you?" Kirk Anthony's hands suddenly shot out and seized the masquerader by the throat. The man uttered a startled gasp, but simultaneously the iron grip of Marty Ringold fell upon his arms and doubled them behind him, while Kirk gibed: "You'll get me outside and into a telephone booth, eh?
Womanly instinct impelled Yetive to shield the timid masquerader. Her strange association with Baldos was not of enough consequence in the eyes of this tender ruler to check the impulse of gentleness that swept over her. That the girl was guiltless of any wrong-doing was plain to be seen. Her eyes, her face, her trembling figure furnished proof conclusive.
Coniston could not see us, nor could he hear our whispers. "Gregg." A different voice; its throaty, husky quality gone. A soft pleading. "Gregg Gregg, don't you know me? Gregg, dear...." Why, what was this? Not George Prince? A masquerader, yet so like George Prince. "Gregg don't you know me?" Clinging to me. A soft touch upon my arm. Fingers, clinging.
With what consummate skill he had played his hand! Now the pursuit of the Maitland burglar would be abandoned; the news item suppressed at Headquarters. The masquerader ventured a mystical smile at the world in general. One pictured the evening when the infatuated detective should find it convenient to drop in on the exclusive Mr. Maitland.... "Mr. Anisty?"
A second dollar bill appeared as it were by magic between his fingers. The flunkey stared. "Beg pardon, sir?" "Take it" impatiently. "Thank you." The well-trained fingers executed their most familiar manoeuvre. "But m'y I ask, sir wot's it for?" "You called me a gentleman just now." "Yes, sir." "You were right." "Quite so, sir." "The devil is a gentleman," the masquerader insisted firmly.
That an upstart, a masquerader, a mountebank of a King, should actually have traversed Austria from west to east, without ever a soul cased in uniform knowing anything about him, was ill to endure, and the minions of Kosnovia's truculent neighbor swore mighty oaths that no bottle holder from Paris or elsewhere should be allowed to follow.
The girl's heart sickened under the brutal frankness of a dozen calculating eyes, yet she valiantly maintained her part, while Shirley marveled at her clever simulation of silly, giggly, semi-intoxication. One youth deserted them to disappear through the distant dining room entrance. The comments about the table were interesting to the keen-eared masquerader.
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