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Updated: June 1, 2025
This view of the episode took Thorpe by surprise. As it seemed, in passing, to involve a compliment to his own strategic powers, he accepted it without comment. "Well it is twenty-five, anyway," he told them, with firmness. "Twenty-four," suggested Aronson, after another momentary pause. "Not a shilling less than twenty-five," Thorpe insisted, with quiet doggedness.
At twelve-thirty o'clock the Saturday before, as soon as the business of the day was closed, Mr. John Bailey, the cashier of the defunct bank, had taken his hat and departed. During the afternoon he had called up Mr. Aronson, a member of the board, and said he was ill, and might not be at the bank for a day or two. As Bailey was highly thought of, Mr. Aronson merely expressed a regret.
"Yes, sir," answered Hugo, with the automatic deference of private to officer but with a reserved and studious inquiry that made the captain bite his lip. "I'll have Aronson and Pilzer watch you, too!" Fracasse added. "Yes, sir!" said Pilzer promptly. Then, under the restraint of the captain's presence, there was a silence that endured.
The instant that Eugene Aronson sprang over the white post a blast from Dellarme's whistle began the war. It was a signal, too, for Stransky to play the part he had planned; to make the speech of his life. His six feet of stature shot to its feet with a Jack-in-the-box abruptness, under the impulse of a mighty and reckless passion. "Men, stop firing!" he cried thunderously.
Have you forgotten Eugene Aronson, the farmer's son, and Jacob Pilzer, the butcher's son, and pasty-faced little Peterkin, the valet's son, and the judge's son, and the other privates of the group that surrounded Hugo Mallin as he aired heresies that set them laughing?
There are a great number that I haven't had time to look at yet. You know how numerous father's investments are." "If you have no record of the transaction here, can you not ask your father about it?" questioned Mr. Aronson, smoothly. "He is too sick to be disturbed, Mr. Aronson," answered Dick.
Rostocker and Aronson, which should constitute the dramatic finale of the "corner," and he looked forward to this meeting with a certain eagerness of expectation. Yet even here he thought broadly of the scene as a whole, and asked himself no questions about words and phrases. It seemed to be taken for granted in his mind that the scene itself would be theatrically impressive, even spectacular.
"Take him home to mother!" groaned Pilzer. "That will do for you, Hugo Mallin!" came another interruption, a sharp one from Captain Fracasse, who had returned unobserved from the rear in time to overhear Hugo's remarks. "And that's the way to talk, Aronson and Pilzer. As for you, Mallin, I've a mind to put you under arrest and send you back for a coward! A coward do you hear?"
"Well, if you care to do so, you can stop at my office and look over the account there," went on the visitor. "And you say this twenty thousand dollars has got to be paid a week from to-day?" asked Tom. "Yes, Mr. Rover. The management will grant no extension of time." "Supposing it isn't paid?" questioned Dick. At this suggestion Mallin Aronson shrugged his shoulders and put up his hands.
"No, we may beat them in fighting," agreed Hugo, "but these two fellows had me beaten on the argument!" "They hauled down our flag! They insulted us in their despatches! They quibble! They're the perfidious Browns!" cried big Eugene Aronson, speaking the lesson taught him by the newspapers, which had it from the premier. "There, he's got you again, Gene!" "Yes, you funny old simpleton!
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