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Updated: June 14, 2025


It was whispered in certain circles and openly avowed in others that Bansemer's business was not the kind which elevates the law; in plain words, his methods were construed to debase the good and honest statutes of the land.

"Where from?" demanded the old clerk, the paper rattling in his fingers. "I don't know. I'm from Chicago Avenue," said the boy, with proper impudence. He took one look at Droom's face as the man handed the slip back to him and then hurried downstairs, far less impudent at heart than he had been. Droom recognised the handwriting on the envelope as James Bansemer's.

She left the building fifteen minutes later, nursing a wild but forlorn hope that James Bansemer meant no evil, after all. Without hesitation she told him plainly that she came to learn the precise nature of his attitude toward herself and the girl. Bansemer's resentment appeared too real to have been simulated. He was almost harsh in his response to the inference.

"I had a brother that had to skip once." "That so? Did he ever come back?" "I s'd say not. He ducked for good. Mother had a letter from him couple o' months before I left home. He was in Milwaukee." "Aw, this Bansemer's not that sort. He's made o' different stuff. Milwaukee? Holy Moses, it's only eighty mile from Chicago!"

Say, who was that swell woman I saw coming out of your office to-day? I was up at Mr. Hornbrook's." Droom hesitated a moment. He seemed to be weighing everything he said. "I suspect it was young Bansemer's future mother-in-law," he said. "Mrs. David Cable was there this afternoon about three." "Gee," laughed Eddie. "Does she need a lawyer?" "Mr. Bansemer transacted business for her some time ago.

"Gee, I'd like to have a glass o' the goods that made Milwaukee famous," sighed Joe Adams. "I'd like a keg," said Jim Spurrier, with a wistful look in his eyes. "S'pose we'll ever see a glass o' beer again?" asked the other Spurrier, solemnly. "I'll bet Bansemer's wonderin' if he'll ever taste champagne again." "Ask him, Johnny." "Hey, Bansemer. I've got a riddle for you.

Bansemer!" she cried lightly; "after flattering me so delightfully, you're surely not going to spoil it all?" Despite his growing annoyance, admiration shone clearly from Bansemer's eyes. His memory carried him, back some twenty years to the scene in his office.

"Am I to expect my discharge, sir?" asked Droom, rubbing his hands abjectly, but looking squarely into Bansemer's eyes for the first time in their acquaintance. Bansemer glared back for an instant and then shrugged his shoulders with a nervous laugh. "We shan't quarrel, Elias," he said. "Speaking of Graydon, he is to be married before long." "I trust he is to do well, sir. Graydon is a fine boy."

Broom's hair still was black and snaky; his teeth were as yellow and jagged as they were in the seventies, and his eyes were as blue and ugly as ever. He had not aged with James Bansemer. In truth, he looked but little older then when we made his acquaintance. The outside world knew no more of Droom's private transactions than it knew of Bansemer's.

She's she's not just the same sort of stock that we are, take it as you will." "She never must know the truth, David." "She's bound to find it out, dear. We'd better tell her. It will be easier for her. Bansemer's fangs must be made harmless forever. He shan't bother her. She'd better hear the story from us and not from him." "But Graydon? She'll lose him, David." "I'm not so sure of it.

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