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'We-e-ll, said the detective, slowly. 'It is this way. We have only got his word to go on as regards the cups. This man, Stokes, it seems is a notorious poacher. The night after the robbery he took the cups out with him on an expedition in some woods that lie in the direction of Badgwick. I think Badgwick is the name. 'Badgwick! Not Sir Alfred Venner's woods? 'Sir Alfred Venner it was, sir.
Judith scanned the doors critically, her brows puckered and her head aslant. "We-e-ll," she said, slowly revolving so as to see each hall in turn. "I'll take the one just ahead there. It hasn't any card on the door and all the others have." "Clever child!" commended Bruce. "That escaped my notice. You're right, of course. Go ahead. Open up."
"We-e-ll," he drawled, gravely, "I'm afraid I couldn't hardly knock off all that that comes to. But," taking another and much smaller vane from a shelf, "there's an article, not quite so big, that I usually get fifty cents for. What do you think of that?" The child took the miniature swordfish and inspected it carefully. "It's a baby one, isn't it," she observed.
"Of what use was it that we swore an oath to rebel if we permit this? Let us rise and slay the tyrant." Werner Stauffacher, prudent man, scratched his chin thoughtfully. "We-e-ll," he said, "you see, the difficulty is that we are not armed and the soldiers are. There is nothing I should enjoy more than slaying the tyrant, only I have an idea that the tyrant would slay us. You see my point?"
Bartley knew that this was Ricker's way of accepting, and he said nothing, but he answered his next question with easy joviality. "How are you making it with old Witherby?" "Oh, hand over hand! Witherby and I were formed for each other. By, by!" "No, hold on! Why don't you come to the club any more?" "We-e-ll! The club isn't what it used to be," said Bartley, confidentially. "Why, of course!
So he was feeling just a little sad, because people like to have gifts. He came downstairs and unlocked his door, and opened it to the beautiful young day all strung with dew " "Could he see it?" asked Kirk. "No," said Felicia, "he couldn't." "Then it was me." "We-e-ll," said his sister, "possibly. But when he opened the door, in came the wind, all as fresh and dewy as a dawn-wind can be.
"Hum," he mused. "H-u-u-m. . . . Well, I did cal'late I could get a meal out of sight pretty fast myself, but but I ain't in that critter's class." "But your dinner!" wailed Barbara, almost in tears. "He's spoiled ALL your dinner! Oh, the BAD thing! I hate that Cherub cat! I HATE him!" Mr. Winslow rubbed his chin. "We-e-ll," he drawled again.
"No but it proves something a good deal worse, Leverage. It proves that she was going to elope with him." "It may we don't know!" "We don't know anything. But there is a certain logic which is irrefutable and, confound it! man what are we going to do now?" Leverage refused to meet his friend's eyes. "We-e-ll, David suppose you tell me what you think we should do?" "We ought to but it's rotten!
The information was brought to me by Black Peter himself, who, having secured an afternoon's liberty, which he broke by coming aboard about ten-thirty instead of at six o'clock p.m., presented himself considerably the worse for liquor, I regret to say at my cabin door, beaming hilariously all over his sable countenance as he stuttered "We-e-ll, M-mistah Cour'-nay, I g-got him a' las', sah!"
He wheeled about, then clutched at the edge of the cabin table, most unsteadily. "We-e-ll," admitted Somers, reluctantly, "Mr. Mayhew said he would want to question you some, perhaps, this morning." "What did he say? Out with it all, Eph!" A moment before Jack Benson had been pallid enough. Now, two bright, furious spots burned in either cheek.
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