Gordon Andrews had been slain in his sleep by the quick thrust of somerapierlike instrument. There was no sign of any struggle. The wallsafe stood with its door open and its contents missing. Every door andwindow was closed, locked, burglar-bugged, and non-openable from theinside; the front door had been forced by the police. Furthermore, ithad been raining in wind-whipped torrents for hours, yet there was notrace of moisture on any of the floors.
The rain was still coming down in wind-whipped torrents that slattedalong the avenue in drenching sheets. Huddled in the scant cover of theapartment door was a girl of about eighteen. The raincoat she wore wasno protection; the wind drove the rain up under it. Womanlike, she wasstruggling with the ruins of a fashionable little umbrella instead ofabandoning it for the tangled mess that it was.
Howard Stern Torrents
No other boat could be got. So they walked on to Mashad-i-Sar, twelve miles on, where Clifford and Imani swam far out to a Port Pahlevi steamer, only to be told that its departure would be too late to be of any use. Back they tramped to Barfarush, where they waited for a lorry bound for Tehran. The route lay through a river which rose swiftly in the night. A ferry took the baggage across; but before it could convey the passengers, the river had risen to an alarming height. Skipworth and Clifford waded into the water in bathing kit, to see whether it was possible to detain the relief lorry on the far side till they could cross. The current was strong, but Clifford insisted on trying to cross by the diagonal rope, holding on by his arms, till, in midstream, the strain overcame him. "I saw him," says Skipworth, "sink into the rushing torrent, and go careering downstream. You can imagine my feelings! His chance of safety was almost ml. Luckily, however, the current swept him against the stern of the ferry. He grabbed it just in time, and so got to the shore. It was a very near shave."
"Instead, in contrast to other debates -- where she mixed a warm smile with a sharp attack -- she was stern and tense through most of the evening, speaking in an almost fatigued monotone as she recounted her criticisms of Mr. Obama, some of them new but many of them familiar. She often sat staring unsmiling at Mr. Obama and at Tim Russert of NBC News, who, yet again, presented himself as a tougher challenge to Mrs. Clinton's credentials than Mr. Obama himself." 2ff7e9595c
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