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Updated: June 21, 2025
A snug little farm was the old Brevoort Where cabbages grew of the choicest sort; Full-headed, and generous, ample and fat, In a queenly way on their stems they sat, And there was boast of their genuine breed, For from old Utrecht had come their seed. Gideon Tucker, "The Old Brevoort Farm." Passing under the Washington Arch, the march up the Avenue properly begins.
That lonely feeling did not last long: the first object which caught my eye on the steps of the Brevoort House was an honest English face a face I have known, and liked right well, these dozen years and more. I had heard that my old friend was on his way to England to join the Staff College, but had never reckoned on such a successful "nick" as this.
That fifty was insurance on the big money. Let's go where we kin git a real drink and then we'll have a look at a show." The "real drink" was followed by another. When Brevoort suggested a third, Pete shook his head. "It's all right, if you want to hit it, Ed but it's takin' a big chanct. Somethin' might slip. 'T ain't the drinkin' but it's the drinkin' right now."
Before the next street is reached we have passed the home of the Huntingdons of Edgar Fawcett's "A Hopeless Case," and at the southwest corner of the Avenue and Eighth Street, facing the Brevoort, is No. 68 Clinton Place, which was not only the setting, but also the raison d'être of Thomas A. Janvier's "A Temporary Deadlock."
His high heel caught one choking Mexican in the jaw just as Brevoort jumped and swung the single-tree. Pete grabbed up his belt and gun. Brevoort had no need to strike again. "You go see if the horses are saddled. I'll watch the door," said Brevoort. Arguilla was awakened from a heavy sleep by the sound of a shot and the shrill yelp of one of his men. A soldier entered and saluted.
'Course he acted like he was but you can't tell about him. He he helped me out of a hole onct." "Did you ever help him out?" "Me? No, I never had the chanct." "Uh-huh. Well, just you pull in your hoss and run your good eye over this a minute." And Brevoort drew a folded slip of paper from his shirt-pocket and handed it to Pete.
Brevoort, silently eying Arguilla, saw through the scheme. Arguilla had determined to have both the money and the cattle. This explained his unwonted presence at the Ortez hacienda. Arguilla took a stiff drink of whiskey, wiped his mustache and turned to Brevoort. "You have heard?" he said. Brevoort knew enough Mexican to understand the question.
There were bequests to his lawyer, his doctor and his secretary, besides substantial gifts to persons who could not by any chance have expected anything from this grim old man,—such as the friendly doorman at his favourite club, and the man who had been delivering newspapers to him for a score of years or more, and the old negro bootblack who had attended him at the Brevoort in the days before the Italian monopoly set in, and the two working-girls who supported the invalid widow of a man who had gone to prison and died there after having robbed the Thorpe estate of a great many thousands of dollars while acting as a confidential and trusted agent.
At his earnest request Douglass left immediately on receipt of his advice for Denver. Considering the unattractive conditions at the ranch in event of his absence for an indefinite time, it is scarcely to be wondered at that Constance Brevoort elected to accompany him.
"Reckon you 're right," concurred Brevoort. "But I ain't had a drink for so long let's go see that show." They crowded into a cheap and odoriferous nickel theater, and straightway Pete forgot where he was and all about who he was in watching the amazing offerings of the screen. The comedy feature puzzled him.
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