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Updated: May 5, 2025
"I'm not going to leave till I take her with me." "Den you wont never leave alive." Pete whipped a knife from his pocket and rushed at Mr. Dootleby, intending to overwhelm him by a sudden and furious attack. The ivory cane again came into action. It struck the muscular part of Pete's arm just below the shoulder. The knife did not reach its destination, but it inflicted an ugly wound in Mr.
The block in which he was now wandering was quite dark and dismal, save for a single gas-jet hanging almost hidden within a dirty globe, over some steep steps that led into a cellar. Mr. Dootleby concluded to stop there and ask his way. As he approached the cellar, he heard what seemed to be cries of distress.
Dootleby took in at his first glance, and his second fell upon two figures in the center of the room, from whom had proceded the noises he had heard. One was that of a girl cowering on her knees and moaning in a voice from which reason had clearly departed.
Want had marked most of them with unmistakable lines, and crossing these were often others telling that they knew no better than they did. Mr. Dootleby watched awhile and then went on, pausing occasionally at the corners to peer through the dark side streets, up at the big tenement-houses those ugly nurseries of vice from whose black shadows came many of these that had been christened into crime.
Dootleby opened his one available eye, and saw that the only persons in the room were himself, his beaten enemy, and Dick. "What's this mean?" he cried. "You pledged your word on fair dealings." Dick called on all the saints to witness that he did not know where the girl had gone. "De whole crowd cleared out," he said, "w'en de hustlin' begun. But she can'ter gone fur.
He's chain lightnin', ole man, an' you better be sure of yer holt." "I'll give all dere is on him if you'll help, Dick!" said Pete. Mr. Dootleby took his watch, his gold pencil, and a dollar or so in change from his pockets, and tossed them toward Dick. "That's all I've got," he said. "Now, let us alone." Dick slid the coins in his pocket and carefully examined the gold watch.
Dootleby stood and looked for full twenty minutes. In some of the faces that passed him he saw only a careless sensuality brightened by the flush of excitement. Others, somewhat older, were full of brazen coarseness, and others, older still, bore that pitiful look of hopeless regret, quickly changing to one that says as plainly as can be that the time for thinking and caring has gone.
Blood from the wound in his head was trickling over his face, into which the fury of a legion of devils was concentrated. "Sissy!" he bellowed, "go back to yer bench!" "Don't do it, my child," said Mr. Dootleby. "You're all right. Run outside if it gets too dangerous for you in here." The fellow gathered himself together, evidently intending to dash past Mr. Dootleby toward the bar beyond. But Mr.
They grew more distinct, and accompanying them were the dull sounds of blows and the harsh accents of a man's voice, evidently permeated with rage. Mr. Dootleby ran down the steps and flung the door open, presenting his eyes with a spectacle that made his blood run cold. The room was long and narrow.
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