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Updated: June 23, 2025
And then he passed on, hardly looking at Mrs. Harold Smith as he passed. "What a hang-dog countenance he has," said that lady. "Ah, you're prejudiced, my dear, and no wonder; as for myself I always liked Supplehouse. He means mischief; but then mischief is his trade, and he does not conceal it. If I were a politician I should as soon think of being angry with Mr.
Possibly the gloom of the room and the man's surly words inclined me to suspicion; possibly his secret thoughts portrayed themselves in his hang-dog visage. Afterwards it appeared that he had stripped me, while I lay, of everything of value; but he may have done this in the belief that I should die. All I know is that I knew nothing certain, because the fear died almost as soon as it was born.
What was to become of "slender folk," such as Bertram and herself, when men breathed who could hear unmoved the pleadings of "Caesar's daughter?" "But what said he?" "Who my Lord of Arundel? The unpiteous, traitorous, hang-dog lither oaf!" Bertram would apparently have chosen more opprobrious words if they would kindly have occurred to him.
'The best spies are those that have open countenances. It needs but a little schooling. 'I should get me a hang-dog look very soon, she answered. She paused for a minute and then spoke earnestly, holding out her hands. 'I would you would set me a nobler task.
Something, I know not what, excited suspicion of this man in my mind I could but wonder what he was doing there. He had a hang-dog countenance, and was almost as ugly as I. Presently, whom should I see bustling about, and evidently the manager of the enterprise, but Jacques Haret!
This person would have seen two elderly men sitting one upon a wooden chair and the other upon a wooden packing case and wearing guilty, not to say hang-dog, expressions, while a young woman standing in front of them delivered pointed and personal remarks.
His face was grey, he looked unutterably tired, his mouth had the stark grimness of the man who endures, asking nothing of Fate. "Hullo, boy!" he said. "Why aren't you in bed?" Then seeing Robin's unmistakably hang-dog air, "Oh, I forgot! Go on upstairs! I'm coming." Robin turned about like a kicked dog. But the driving force stopped him on the threshold.
"I don't want anything of that sort to happen, and I'm sure she doesn't." "There's a hang-dog look in his eyes I'd like to see away," confessed John. "He's been mismanaged, I reckon, and hasn't any sense of righteousness yet. All for justice he is, so I hear he tells Mister Churchouse. Many are who don't know the meaning of the word. I'll do what I can when he comes here."
The sergeant left the room and presently returned, followed by the Professor, a tall hang-dog looking rogue, clad in rusty black, with broad, horny hands, and nails bitten down to the quick. "Good morning to you, Professor," said Ramiro. "Here are two subjects for your gentle art.
Or will you be sworn at the drumhead and then comes the question, whether anybody would trust your hang-dog visages and so under the splenetic humor of some despotic sergeant serve your time of purgatory in advance? Would you like to run the gauntlet to the beat of the drum? or be doomed to drag after you, like a galley-slave, the whole iron store of Vulcan? Behold your choice.
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