United States or Egypt ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
The winds of early winter sweep bitterly over Rosenheim, and all the vast Bavarian plain was one white sheet of snow. If there had not been whole armies of men at work always clearing the iron rails of the snow, no trains could ever have run at all.
"Can you let me have the money?" inquired Peters. "My dear fellow," retorted Rosenheim, with an oily sneer, "I owe the money all right, but I don't own a thing in the world. Everything in this room belongs to my wife. The amount of money I owe is really something shocking. Even what is in the safe" he nodded to a large affair on the other side of the room "belongs to somebody else."
With bursting veins and protruding tongue he struggled helplessly to escape as his assailant dragged him toward the safe. "I mean what I say!" half shrieked Peters. "I'm starving! I'd as lief die one way as another; but before I die you'll pay up those judgments every cent!" Rosenheim was on his knees now before the safe, his eyes starting from his head. "Open the safe!" commanded Peters.
He was immensely long and sallow, wore a drooping moustache vaguely blonde, between the unkempt curtains of which a thin cheroot pointed heavenward. As he walked nervously up and down, with a suspiciously stilted gait, he observed Rosenheim with evident scorn and the picture with a strange pride.
"Were the stocks transferred to Decker?" "No; they stand to Rosenheim, trustee." "Well, Wilton, they've stolen a march on us, but I reckon we'll give 'em a surprise before they're quite awake." "And," I continued coolly, "Decker's working up a deal in Crown Diamond and toying a little with Confidence you gave me a week to find out, you may remember."
My blessing to you!" Peters grabbed the transcripts and staggered down the stairs. It took him less than ten minutes to find Mr. Simon Rosenheim, who was sitting inside a brass fence at a mahogany desk, smoking one of the best of his own cigars. "Mr. Rosenheim," said Peters, "I have some judgments here against you, amounting to about three thousand dollars." "Yes?" remarked Rosenheim politely.
'You bet! was the terse response. 'May I inquire the cause of your concern? Rosenheim continued placidly.
Then began our duo on the theme of atmosphere, vibrancy, etc. brand new phrases, mind you, in those innocent days. As Rosenheim for a moment carried the burden alone, I stepped up to the canvas and saw, with a shock, that the paint was about two days old. Under what conditions I wondered for did I not know the ways of paint could a real Corot have come over so fresh? I more than scented trickery.
It passed twelve hours later, after lying by in out-of-the-way stations, pretty Rosenheim, that marks the border of Bavaria. And here the Nürnberg stove, with August inside it, was lifted out heedfully and set under a covered way.
"I sold down to seventy-one average seventy-three, I guess and she's piling in fit to break the floor." "Did Lattimer and Eppner get your stock?" I could not help asking. "They got about three thousand of it. Rosenheim got the rest." I remembered Rosenheim as the agent of Decker, and sighed. But Lattimer and Eppner were busy, and I had hopes. "Where is it now?" I asked. "Sixty-nine and a half."
Word Of The Day