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George Wilmot Temple, Esq., or any other gentleman of his standing, should object to being taken care of by his own servants was a thing he could not understand: Pawson, of course, need not know nor should any outside person not even Gadgem if he came nosing around. To these he would merely say that Mr. Temple had seen fit to leave home and that Mr.

This last remark was addressed to St. George, who had listened at first with a broad smile on his face, which had deepened to one of intense seriousness as the interview continued, and which had now changed to one of ill-concealed rage. "Mr. Gadgem," gritted St.

"I did, sir," came the answer in a meek voice, as if he had been detected in filching an apple from a stand; "and I would do it again do it over and over again. And it has been a great pleasure for me to do it. I might say, sir, that it has been a kind of exTREME bliss to do it." "Why?" There was a tremor now in Temple's voice that even Todd had never noticed before. Gadgem turned his head away.

George's haps and mishaps, with every single transaction of Gadgem and Pawson loving cup, dogs and all but when their own personal news was exhausted they both fell back on their friends, such as Richard Horn and old Judge Pancoast; when he had seen Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Latrobe yes, and what of Mr. Poe had he written any more? and were his habits any better? etc., etc. "I have seen Mr.

This and the discovery of Pawson's and Gadgem's treachery had greatly incensed him. "And you tell me, Pawson, that that scoundrel, Gadgem, has Todd go down and bring him up here immediately has had the audacity to run a pawnshop for my benefit without so much as asking my leave? peddling my things? lying to me straight through?" Here the door opened and Gadgem's face peered in.

George W. Temple, Esquire, of Kennedy Square-and so I made bold, sir, to " "You won't find it, Gadgem," replied St. George, buttering the toast. "I have two that I have shot with for years that haven't their match in the State. Todd, bring me one of those small bird guns there, behind the door in the rack. Hand it to Mr. Gadgem. Now, can you see by the shape of take hold of it, man.

"But it's true, isn't it?" persisted St. George. He had never once taken his eyes from Gadgem. "Yes, it's true." St. George turned on his heel, walked to the mantel, stood for an instant gazing into the empty fireplace, and then, with that same straightening of his shoulders and lift of his head which his friends knew so well when he was deeply stirred, confronted the collector again: "Gadgem!"

"Took it to my father and he told me to use it; that he would settle with Mr. Slater when he paid his account; when, too, he would thank him for helping me out." "And when he didn't pay it back and these buzzards learned you had quit your father's house they employed Gadgem to pick your bones." "Yes it seems so; but, Uncle George, it's due them!" exclaimed Harry "they ought to have their money.

Somehow he seemed more than usually happy this morning bubbling over, indeed, ever since Todd had brought him a message from the young lawyer in the basement but half an hour before. "Keep that sort of talk for those who like it. No, Todd, you needn't bring Mr. Gadgem a chair, for he won't be here long enough to enjoy it. Now listen," and he took the memorandum from his pocket.

Todd, show Mr. Gadgem out." With the closing of the door behind the agent, St. George turned to Harry. His eyes were snapping fire and his big frame tense with anger. This phase of the affair had not occurred to him nothing in which money formed an important part ever did occur to him. "A cowardly piece of business, Harry, and on a par with everything he has done since you left his house.