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Updated: June 28, 2025
She stopped short to watch the effect which this name would have on her hearers. But to her surprise neither her father nor Stott displayed the slightest emotion or even interest. Puzzled at this cold reception, she repeated: "Did you hear, father John Burkett Ryder will come to your assistance. I came home on the same ship as his son and he promised to secure his father's aid."
When, therefore, she first conceived the idea of portraying in the guise of fiction the personality of John Burkett Ryder, the Colossus of finance whose vast and ever-increasing fortune was fast becoming a public nuisance, she naturally turned to Jefferson for assistance.
Shirley smiled in triumph as, unseen by her father and mother, she passed it over to Stott. She at once sat down and wrote this reply: MR. JOHN BURKETT RYDER, Dear Sir. I am sorry that I am unable to comply with your request. I prefer the invitation to call at your private residence should come from Mrs. Ryder. Yours, etc., SHIRLEY GREEN.
The matter will be dropped. You've beaten me. I acknowledge it. You're the first living soul who ever has beaten John Burkett Ryder." Shirley started forward with a cry of mingled joy and surprise. Could she believe her ears? Was it possible that the dreaded Colossus had capitulated and that she had saved her father? Had the forces of right and justice prevailed, after all?
This slip of a girl could not have written "The American Octopus." He advanced to greet Shirley. "You wish to see me, Madame?" he asked courteously. There were times when even John Burkett Ryder could be polite. "Yes," replied Shirley, her voice trembling a little in spite of her efforts to keep cool. "I am here by appointment. Three o'clock, Mrs. Ryder's note said. I am Miss Green."
The matter will be dropped. You've beaten me. I acknowledge it. You're the first living soul who ever has beaten John Burkett Ryder." Shirley started forward with a cry of mingled joy and surprise. Could she believe her ears? Was it possible that the dreaded Colossus had capitulated and that she had saved her father? Had the forces of right and justice prevailed, after all?
The embankment was strewn with men and milk-cans, chiefly the latter. No one seemed to be wholly dead, although one or two looked pretty near it. A few feet away, Burkett, the constable, was having a convulsion in his vain endeavour to extricate his cranium from a milk-can. The sounds that issued from that can made me blush. Jackson was sitting up and staring dully at the river, while Dr.
The galley slave led a life of luxurious ease compared with John Burkett Ryder.
There was our friend Mr Nathaniel Burkett, and his friend Mr Jonathan Kilby, both keen sportsmen, and up to all sorts of fun; and Gerard and I, and the master of the vessel, Tom Cribb by name, who, though not a good shot, seeing that he had but one eye, and that had a terrific squint, knew every inch of the coast, and exactly where we were likely to find sport; and then there was Cousin Silas, who was a first-rate shot, though he did not throw away his words by talking about the matter.
He had been unwilling to believe it when his friend ex-judge Stott had pointed to Ryder as the author of all his misfortunes, but this unsympathetic letter with its falsehoods, its lies plainly written all over its face, was proof enough. Yes, there was now no doubt possible. John Burkett Ryder was his enemy and what an enemy!
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