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BRADSHAW THE BETRAYER. 53
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
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Transcript
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Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
Additionally, when viewing full transcripts, extracted text may not be in the same order as the original document.
.+. " Oh Doricles ! Your Praises Are Too...
her so close in shore that only the high tide will float her ! Cursed fools that they were !"
" And we must wait here another hour ?" " Tonnerre de D . ieu ! there ' s no help for it !"
The new comer struck the table heavily with his fist , and muttered a string of oathshalf of which were wholly unintelligible to
, me ; and , somehow , his voice , as well as his companion ' s , struck upon my ear with a familiarity that urged my curiosity to the
keenest pitch . If I might only trust to the gloom of this part of the room , and venture on another peep ! just as I was about to dare it ,
the second stranger spoke again . " Have you nothing to drink ? " said he moodily .
" Drink ! " echoed the other ; " I should think so , indeed ! why , mate , here's a flask of the real old Schiedam , if that will content
you !" A growl of satisfaction , a deep-drawn breath , and a hearty
smack of the lips , was the reply that folio wed . I could resist no longer . I drew the quilt down gently to the level of my eyes , held
my breath , and looked out . They were both seafaring men , and the second wore much the
same kind of dress as the first—a costume which is conventionally adopted by stage-smugglersbut which in actual life is chiefly
confined to the seamen of French , and Dutch trading smacks , and to our own north-coast fishers . The first comer sat with his back to me ;
but the other , who was now returning the flask across the table , had his face turned straiht towards me . It was a tawnysullen
countenanceand one that g I felt certain I had seen before , . When had we met , though ? and where ? These were difficult questions , and
the longer , I looked the more I became puzzled to answer them . It was like a face seen in a dreamand only half
remembered—, strange , and yet familiar—like and unlike at the same time ! I was not long left in doubt , however ; for his companion took
the flask , held it to the light to see how much of the liquor was nodded solemnlsaid " Here ' s to your spiritual glorification ,
gone Brother , Ambroise ! " and y , drank a deep draught out of the bottle ! This sally evoked a hoarse laugh from both , under cover of which
I ventured to shift my position , so as to conceal myself still more effectuallThesethenwere my friends the pious pilgrims of the
y . , , ther day before Paul was yesterday the first ! and I recognised Brother Ambroise them well who enou had gh miraculousl now—Broy
to recovered confess that the this sight discovery of , his left affected eye , was me the with , second a very . I unp am leasant bound
that sensation obliterated all down for some my back seconds , and every caused other a rushing sound . noise in my ears
AVhen I next looked up , Paul was bending , eagerly forward , and ' Ambroise was lifting a carpet-bag from the floor to the table .
" If the sergent de ville had asked to see what was in this , " said
Bradshaw The Betrayer. 53
BRADSHAW THE BETRAYER . 53
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Citation
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English Woman’s Journal (1858-1864), March 1, 1858, page 53, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/ewj/issues/ewj_01031858/page/53/
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