Genre - Romance. You are on the page - 24

perchance to hear again that mirthful, happy laugh.Then game a gust of wind, the sun retreated, the soldiers gasped, and lo! before Mr. Inch or Mr. Corporal had realized that the picture was made of flesh and blood, horse and rider has disappeared, there, far out across the Heath, beyond the gorse and bramble and the budding heather, with not a handful of dusk to mark the way they went. Only once from far, very far, almost from fairyland, there came, like the echo of a sliver bell, the sound of

cook, who on all occasions was Edith's champion, removed her hands from the dough she was kneading and coming towards them, chimed in, "She ain't fairly got it through her har, Miss Grace. She's such a substracted way with her that you mostly has to tell her twicet," and in her own peculiar style Rachel succeeded in making the "substracted" child comprehend the nature of her errand."Now don't go to blunderin'," was Rachel's parting injunction, as Edith left the

e a real getaway. All I needed to lay hands on him was a good description.""Description?" echoed Whipple. "Your agency's got descriptions on file--thumb prints--photographs--of every employee of this bank." "Every one of 'em but Clayte," I said. "When I came to look up the files, there wasn't a thing on him. Don't think I ever laid eyes on the man myself." A description of Edward Clayte? Every man at the table--even old Sillsbee--sat up and opened

ph passed outfit after outfit exhausted by the way. He had reachedCopper Creek Camp, which was boiling and frothing with the excitement ofgold-maddened men, and was congratulating himself that he would soon beat the camps west of the Peace, when the thing happened. A drunkenIrishman, filled with a grim and unfortunate sense of humor, spotted ShanTung's wonderful cue and coveted it. Wherefore there followed a bit ofexcitement in which Shan Tung passed into his empyrean home with a bulletthrough

in the morning we go to the pump-room (though neither my master nor I drink the waters); after breakfast we saunter on the parades, or play a game at billiards; at night we dance; but damn the place, I'm tired of it: their regular hours stupify me--not a fiddle nor a card after eleven!--However, Mr. Faulkland's gentleman and I keep it up a little in private parties;--I'll introduce you there, Thomas--you'll like him much.THOMAS Sure I know Mr. Du-Peigne--you know his master is to marry Madam

theories. What I saw through that ultramicroscope was not an unproven theory, but a fact. My theories you have brought out by your questions.""You are quite right," said the Doctor; "but you did mention yourself that you hoped to provide proof." The Chemist hesitated a moment, then made his decision. "I will tell you the rest," he said. "After the destruction of the microscope, I was quite at a loss how to proceed. I thought about the problem for many