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It meant a special pull and a special way of doing things and "You'll do well, my girl, to give up Mr. Tausig's property to him," the Sergeant said stiffly. "But what have I got that belongs to him?" I demanded. He grinned and shrugged his big shoulders. "We've a way of finding out, you know, here. Give it up or " "But what does he say I've taken? What charge is there against me?
Yes, there it was, just as Obermuller had vowed it was, with Tausig's cramped little signature followed by Heffelfinger's, Dixon's and Weinstock's; a scheme to crush the business life out of men by the cleverest, up-to-date Trust deviltry; a thing that our Uncle Sammy just won't stand for. And neither will Nancy Olden, Miss Monahan.
The last page I had dictated the day before, which he'd been transcribing from his notes, lay in front of him; the gas was still burning directly above him, and a shade he wore over his weak eyes had been knocked awry as his poor old bald head went bumping down on the type-writer before him. The thing that favored me was Tausig's distrust of everybody connected with him.
But from the way he came at Tausig's call I knew he'd had a private talk with him, and I knew he'd found the middle way. "This girl's taken a paper of mine. I want her searched," Tausig cried. "Do you mean," I said, "that you'll sign your name to such a charge against me?" He didn't answer. He had pulled the Sergeant down and was whispering in his ear. I knew what that meant.
"No, but I can fancy you grappling with him till he'd be glad to take you on rather than be pulled off himself." "You'd be in with the push, would you, Olden, if you were managing?" he asked with a grin. "I'd be at the top, wherever that was." "Then why the deuce didn't you jump at Tausig's offer? Were you really crafty enough "
Rub the bloom from a peach or from a butterfly what remains will belong to the kitchen, to natural history! It is not otherwise with Chopin; the bloom consisted in Tausig's treatment of the Ballade. He came to the first passage the motive among blossoms and leaves a figurated recurrence to the principal theme is in the inner parts its polyphonic variant.
It was a false alarm; just a long-legged girl of twelve rushing round the corner, followed by a lot of others. It hadn't been meant for me, of course, but in the second when I had remembered that precious paper and Tausig's rage when he should miss it, I had pulled my hand away from that bit baby's and started to run. The poor little tot!
It was just that I'd had a flash of genius in the minute I heard Tausig's voice, and in spite of my being so sure he wouldn't have me arrested I'd Guess, Mag, guess! There was only one way. The baby, of course!
"Now, weren't there enough real debts to satisfy 'em? They're hard to please, if you haven't creditors enough to suit 'em!" He looked grim, but he didn't speak. "I don't believe it, anyway, Mr. O; and 'tisn't good for you to keep thinking about just one thing. You'll land where Iringer did, if you don't look out. How did he know about it, anyway?" "There was a leak in Tausig's office.
Have you the right to search any woman who walks in here? And what in the world would I want a paper of Tausig's for?" "You won't give it up then?" He tapped a bell. A woman came in. I had a bad minute there, but it didn't last; it wasn't the matron I'd brought the baby to. "You'll take this girl into the other room and search her thoroughly.
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