Genre Short Story. Page - 6

u came out, which made you very careful how you left it about afterwards because people were turned so red and uncomfortable by mostly guessing it was somebody else quite different, and there was once a certain person that had put his money in a hop business that came in one morning to pay his rent and his respects being the second floor that would have taken it down from its hook and put it in his breast-pocket--you understand my dear--for the L, he says of the original--only there was no

e of this same House.As I say, I went and saw for myself. The lodging was perfect.That, I was sure it would be; because Trottle is the best judge ofcomfort I know. The empty house was an eyesore; and that I was sureit would be too, for the same reason. However, setting the onething against the other, the good against the bad, the lodging verysoon got the victory over the House. My lawyer, Mr. Squares, ofCrown Office Row; Temple, drew up an agreement; which his young manjabbered over so

rd and dusted with his own hands every morning before varnishing his boots) I notice him as full of thought and care as full can be and frowning in a fearful manner, but indeed the Major does nothing by halves as witness his great delight in going out surveying with Jemmy when he has Jemmy to go with, carrying a chain and a measuring-tape and driving I don't know what improvements right through Westminster Abbey and fully believed in the streets to be knocking everything upside down by Act of

the go-horse was in position, and thus steadied it admirably with this hint taken direct from the workmanship of the Great Carpenter.There came a day when the horse was finished and the last coat of paint had dried smooth and hard. That evening, when Nebby came running to meet Zacchy, he was aware of his Grandfather's voice in the dusk, shouting:--"Whoa, Mare! Whoa, Mare!" followed immediately by the cracking of a whip. Nebby shrilled out a call, and raced on, mad with excitement,

r best to steal her credit. She'll do just as much for Miss Hinch--you may take it from me!""But how's she going to make the capture, gentlemen?" cried the young fellow, getting his chance at last. "That's the point my wife and I've been discussing. Assuming that she succeeds in spotting this woman-devil, what will she do? Now--" "Do, sir! Yell for the police!" burst from the old gentleman at the door. "And have Miss Hinch shoot her--and then herself,

rtainly, sir. The page is off duty. He sees to orders in the lounge, but I'll attend to you myself.""What a hotel!" thought the murderer, solitary in the chilly lounge, and gave a glance down the long passage. "Is the whole place run by the hall-porter? But of course it's the dead season." Was it conceivable that nobody had heard the sound of the shot? Harder had a strong impulse to run away. But no! To do so would be highly dangerous. He restrained himself. "How

ling-pin no sooner touched the cap, than it flew out of Schwartz's hand, spinning like a straw in a high wind, and fell into the corner at the further end of the room."Who are you, sir?" demanded Schwartz, turning upon him. "What's your business?" snarled Hans. "I'm a poor old man, sir," the little gentleman began very modestly, "and I saw your fire through the window, and begged shelter for a quarter of an hour." "Have the goodness to walk out

the murder was not lacking.My narrative in "The Night of Hate" is admittedly a purely theoretical account of the crime. But it is closely based upon all the known facts of incidence and of character; and if there is nothing in the surviving records that will absolutely support it, neither is there anything that can absolutely refute it. In "The Night of Masquerade" I am guilty of quite arbitrarily discovering a reason to explain the mystery of Baron Bjelke's sudden change

anding his dissipation, Bottle-nosed Ned was a generalfavourite; and the authorities of Mudfog, remembering his numerousservices to the population, allowed him in return to get drunk inhis own way, without the fear of stocks, fine, or imprisonment. Hehad a general licence, and he showed his sense of the compliment bymaking the most of it.We have been thus particular in describing the character andavocations of Bottle-nosed Ned, because it enables us to introducea fact politely, without hauling

ad formerly held in his affections, and cease from a cruelty that would destroy her. "For I may die," wrote the hapless girl, "but marry another--never!" That single word, indeed, had sufficed to betray her secret, had it not been already discovered; as it was, it gave increased fury to Sir Peter, as his sister triumphantly pointed it out to him, for it need hardly be said that while the ink of the address was yet wet, and the seal still warm, Rosina's letter was carried to