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Updated: June 17, 2025
Ninety-seven dollars and forty cents. For that pitiful amount he subjected me to " "Well, that isn't so bad," said Barnes, vastly relieved. "It would require that amount to square everything and release your personal effects?" "It would release the whole blooming production," put in Mr. Dillingford, with unction. "Including my dress suit and a top hat, to say nothing of a change of linen and "
Four of 'em are still stoppin' here just because I ain't got the heart to turn 'em out ner the spare money to buy 'em tickets to New York. Here comes one of 'em now. Mr. Dillingford, will you show this gentleman to room eleven, and carry his baggage up fer him? And maybe he'll want a pitcher of warm water to wash and shave in." He turned to the new guest and smiled apologetically.
"All right, old chap, nothing easier," said Mr. Dillingford genially. "Just climb up the elevator, Mr. Barnes. We do this to get up an appetite. When did you leave New York?" Taking up a lighted kerosene lamp and the heavy pack, Mr. Clarence Dillingford led the way up the stairs. He was a chubby individual of indefinite age.
"Ham and eggs, pork tenderloin, country sausage, rump steak and spring chicken," said Mr. Bacon, in a cavernous voice, getting it over with while the list was fresh in his memory. "Fried and boiled potatoes, beans, succotash, onions, stewed tomatoes and er just a moment, please. Fried and boiled potatoes, beans " "Learn your lines, Ague," said Mr. Dillingford, from the washstand.
"Oh, the row's all over," broke in Mr. Dillingford magnanimously. "It didn't amount to anything. I'm sure if Mr. Rushcroft doesn't object to us, we don't object to him." "Peace reigns throughout the land," said Mr. Bacon, in his deepest bass. "Precede us, my dear Miss Thackeray." The sole topic of conversation for the first half hour was the mysterious slaying of their fellow lodgers. Mr.
"That's just talk to scare you, Ague," said Dillingford. "People live up there and since we've been here two or three men visitors have come down from the place to sample our stock of wet goods. Nothing suspicious looking or ghostly about them either. I talked with a couple of 'em day before yesterday. They were out for a horseback ride and stopped here for a mug of ale."
Bacon departed in great haste. While the traveller performed his ablutions, Mr. Dillingford, for the moment disengaged, sat upon the edge of the bed and enjoyed himself. He talked. "We were nine at the start," said he, pensively. "Gradually we were reduced to seven, not including the manager.
'Pon my soul, you are like a thriving date palm in the middle of an endless desert. How are you?" They shook hands warmly. Mr. Dillingford slapped the newcomer on the shoulder, affectionately, familiarly, and shouted: "Who would have dreamed we'd run across good old Barnesy up here? By Jove, it's marvellous!" "Friends, countrymen," boomed Mr. Rushcroft, "this is Mr. Barnes of New York.
She was no longer dreaming of fame: it was a gay reality. Emulating the example of Miss Thackeray, she addressed Mr. Dillingford as "dear," and came near to being the cause of his death by strangulation. Miss Cameron submitted to the contagion.
The general tone was a dirty grey, due no doubt to age and a constitution that would not allow it to outlive its usefulness. "Meet Mr. Bacon, Mr. Barnes," introduced Mr. Dillingford, going to the needless exertion of indicating Mr. Bacon with a generous sweep of his free hand. "Our heavy leads. Mr. Montague Bacon, also of New York."
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