John T. McIntyre

John T. McIntyre

Summary

Portrait of John T. McIntyre John T. McIntyre In the Dead of Night (1908)

You opened the office door and listened. You could see nothing, the darkness was so thick. You were frightened; and you whispered: ‘Who’s there?’ Then you went slowly down the hall.”
“You heard this?” she demanded, and her face was pale.
“I did.” He regarded her curiously; then a thought struck him. “By George, it was she after all. She must have stolen away to find Forrester.”
“Forrester!”
“Of course. He was there. I saw them together in the lower hall immediately after you snatched the packet and ran. And Farbush was standing before them wild with passion, and with a revolver in his hand.”
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of John T. McIntyre John T. McIntyre In the Dead of Night (1908)

Kenyon beckoned the boy, and in a moment he had a paper. Somehow, as he turned and walked toward Thirty-sixth Street, the realization suddenly came to him of how badly off he was; and he scowled at the shadowy future, a sudden, sobering fear at his heart. But this was only for a moment. The man who had stood at the side of Nunez on that last dreadful night in Montevideo was not one to allow a little ill-luck to cast him down; so with chin up and shoulders squared, Kenyon threw the thing from him with a laugh.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of John T. McIntyre John T. McIntyre In the Dead of Night (1908)

No one, to look at him as he walked slowly along, would have dreamed that this immaculate creature had stood, only seven hours before, stripped to the waist in the stoke-hole of the British ship Blenheim. Yet it was so. He had boarded her at Rio when she touched there two weeks before; and though the fire-room was no inviting prospect, still it was better than Rio. A Latin-American city is never a place for a penniless Gringo.
The section called the “Great White Way” lay before Kenyon like a shimmering vortex.
Source: Gutenberg

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