Word: misted
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...that code, the record of his life from the day when he, a waif as woebegone as Poor Tom on Lear's heath, was befriended by Quong Lee, Chinese storekeeper, to the day when his first short story was published. Calm faces of Canton and Malaya move through mist down a narrow London street; in bad doorways, sailors' knives flash; the rain beats a tattoo of talons on the windows of the house of Quong Lee; the wind sniffs under the door. Tom, the Hardcress Kid, is safe now, warm, dry, nor does he try to cast over...
...went forth-three one way, three the other. Three left New Jersey in the evening. They were at San Fran- cisco at sunset; in Honolulu in the afternoon; in Malabar (Java) in the morning; in London mist in the wee, small hours; back on Long Island in the evening. The other three left Massachusetts at the same time their fellows set out. They were in Paris in the wee, small hours; in Saigon (French Indo-China) in the morning;" in San Francisco at sunset; and also at Long Island in the evening. The evening of departure and arrival...
...them disappear. Then they suddenly broke through, as the cloud disintegrated under the shower of electrified sand discharged through nozzles set in the under portion of the fuselage. The aviators described a circle above the cloud bank and their maneuver was duplicated by a clean-cut pathway through the mist. "A miracle!" cried some of the watchers...
...mysteries, is called from his Cotswold cottage to find them. Matching his wits against those of a fascinating villain, he culls clues from the subconscious mind and follows his quarry through a series of extraordinary episodes, finally stalking for a night and a day over the sinister and mist-wrapt Highlands of Scotland. Aside from its indisputable ability to excite, this work contains a wealth of character study and pungent observation that lifts it from being a thriller into being a book. The style is that of a well-read hunting-squire, talking rather fantastically at his own dinner table...
...separated; the fog was impenetrable. Hopeless of keeping their course, and fearing a collision, two planes-those of Lieuts. Smith and Wade-wheeled and turned back toward Scotland. One, the New Orleans of Lieut. Eric Nelson, kept on. Over 500 miles of icy and puckered water, through the confusing mist-banks, the New Orleans flew like a bodiless falcon, invisible, intrepid, swift. At first Lieut. Nelson feared that the course was lost Then he sighted the Billing sley, from which he took his direction, as she was steaming in the line of flight. He followed the same procedure when...