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Updated: June 26, 2025
He said possibly he might come round my way. He said Ogden would be interested in my sketch. He seemed to think a lot of Ogden's fondness for art. 'Mr Broster is not a proper tutor for my boy. 'Well, he isn't your boy's tutor now, is he, dear? 'What happened then? 'I strolled off with my sketching things. After a while Reggie and Ogden came up.
"Ah, Comrade Maloney," said Smith. "Is that your contribution? What is the subject? 'Mustangs I have Met?" "A kid brought dis," said Pugsy. "Dere ain't no answer." Smith read the letter with raised eyebrows. "We shall have to get another stenographer," he said. "The gifted author of our Broster Street series has quit." "Oh!" said John, not interested.
They had told me about the staircase at the inn. I forget what it is exactly, but it's something rather special in staircases. 'So you got in? 'So I got in. 'And saw Ogden? 'Only for a moment then Reggie 'Who? 'Mr Broster. I always think of him as Reggie. He's one of Nature's Reggies. Such a kind, honest face.
Smith's words gave her an idea. "Do you know Broster Street, Mr. Smith?" she asked. "Down on the East Side? Yes, I went there once to get a story, one red-hot night in August, when I was on the News. The Ice Company had been putting up their prices, and trouble was expected down there. I was sent to cover it."
The spectators were mostly Irishmen, and it offended them to see what should have been a spirited fight so grossly bungled. "G'wan away home, ye quitters!" roared one. A second member of the audience alluded to them as "stiffs." It was evident that the besieging army was beginning to grow a little unpopular. More action was needed if they were to retain the esteem of Broster Street.
To a certain extent, I don't mind owning, since we're being frank with one another, you've got us that's to say, this gentleman I'm speaking of in a cleft stick. Frankly, that Broster Street story of yours has attracted attention I saw it myself in two Sunday papers and if there's going to be any more of them Well, now, here's a square proposition. How much do you want to stop those articles?
You're certainly there with the goods as fighting editors. I don't know what I should have done without you." "Aw, Chee!" said Mr. Jarvis, handsomely dismissing the matter. Long Otto kicked the leg of a table, and grunted. Pugsy Maloney's report on the following morning was entirely satisfactory. Rents were collected in Broster Street on Thursdays.
Do you suppose that the sort of man who runs Broster Street is likely to care a darn about publicity? What does it matter to him if the papers soak it to him for about two days? He knows they'll drop him and go on to something else on the third, and he knows he's broken no law. No, there's something more in this business than that.
The noise died away, echoing against the walls. No answering cry came from below. Custom had staled the piquancy of such cries in Broster Street. If anybody heard it, nobody thought the matter worth investigation. "If you do that again," said John, "I'll break you in half. Now then! I can't wait much longer. Get busy!" He looked huge and sinister to Mr.
'For goodness' sake, Nesta, said Cynthia, with irritation, 'do keep control of yourself. There's nothing to be frightened about. I tell you Mr Broster can't possibly have got here in the time, even if he knew where to go to, which I don't see how he could. It's probably Ogden. The colour came back into Mrs Ford's cheeks. 'Why, of course. Cynthia opened the door.
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