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Updated: June 6, 2025
A hint, for instance, that he, Jimmie Dale, millionaire clubman, riding here in his limousine, was the Gray Seal, and this great, teeming, though orderly, Fifth Avenue would be transformed like magic into a seething, screaming whirl of madmen, and he did not care to follow that trend of thought. He was quite well aware what would happen!
Some one placed a sweater over the face that had been so ruddy, and was now so pale. Captain Poland, still supporting Viola on his arm, saw Bartlett approaching. Somehow he surmised what his fellow clubman was going to say. "Oh, Harry!" exclaimed Viola, impulsively holding out her hands to him. "Is he all right? Is he better?"
Larry the Bat, disreputable denizen of the underworld, alias Jimmie Dale, millionaires' clubman, alias the Gray Seal, whom Carruthers of the MORNING NEWS-ARGUS called the master criminal of the age, shuffled along in the direction of the Bowery, his hands plunged deep in the pockets of his frayed and tattered trousers, where his fingers, in a curious, wistful way, fondled the keys of his own magnificent residence on Riverside Drive.
Then, upon the recommendation of the consul we got a treasure, although he does not show it in his looks. The hotels of India have a very bad name. There are several good ones in the empire, however, and every experienced traveler and every clubman you meet can tell you the names of all of them. Hence it is not impossible to keep a good hotel in India with profit.
The sight angered them and they turned to Lourenço. "Tell Monitaya we want this man freed!" McKay snapped. At his peremptory tone the cannibal chieftain looked oddly at him, and when Lourenço translated the demand though in a more diplomatic manner he scowled. But he gave the clubman the word and the rope was lifted from the prisoner's neck. "Gracias, amigos," he bowed.
It has become all the world watching me, and knowing full well the issue; wise world! That memory has never yet lost its power to make me grip my hands suddenly. "So! And my life has no other purpose, then, than to point a moral for a rich clubman!" Leave it to time! Leave it to time! O God, what a sentence that is so savage and so true!
His neighbour to the right the aristocratic clubman, G. Van Schuylight Suffolk-Jones came out to his waiting motor-car, wrinkling a contumelious nostril, as usual, at the Italian renaissance sculpture of the soap palace's front elevation. "Stuck-up old statuette of nothing doing!" commented the ex-Soap King. "The Eden Musee'll get that old frozen Nesselrode yet if he don't watch out.
I want my tailor to get busy on my wardrobe to- morrow." Boyd shook his head. "Ain't going to be no wardrobe," said Balt. "Why? Has something happened to scare the fish?" "I can't raise the money," Emerson confessed. "Still shy that twenty-five thou?" questioned the clubman. "Yes! I'm done." "That's a shame! I had some ripping clothes planned English whip-cord "
The clubman listened with a well-bred stony stare. "Aw!" he said. "How vewy extwaohdinawy!" "Now, old fellow, Mr. Thompson was just about to negotiate the loan of a man from me when you came. Here we have the adventure seeking the man, and the man seeking the adventure. It sounds promising. Of course, I shall expect a commission both ways. Now give us your plans and specifications, Mr. Thompson."
To this day one may always know Dan's politics: they are those of the Party out of power. Always without question one may know the cause that he will champion, the unpopular cause; the man he will defend, the man who is down. "You are such an un-understandable chap," complained a fellow Clubman to him once in my hearing. "I sometimes ask myself if you have any opinions at all."
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