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Updated: May 28, 2025
The nobles spoke in low tones together, for a greater than they were present, no other than their over-lord, the Archbishop of Treves, who, in his stately robes of office, paced up and down the long room, glancing now and then through the narrow windows which gave a view down the Ender Valley.
Harry Bernard and Nell Darrel were, soon after the arrest and death of Elliston, happily married. Dyke Darrel considers the events leading up to the capture and punishment of those engaged in the crime of the midnight express as among the most thrilling and wonderful of his detective experience. To Harry Bernard and Paul Ender he gives a large share of the credit, and with them shared the reward.
'tis ended Oh thou sinner majestic, All thy terrible part is now played! Noble abased one! Thou, of thy race beginner and ender! Wondrous son of her fearfulest humor, Mother Nature's blunder sublime! Through cloud-covered night a radiant gleam! Hark how behind him the portals are closing! Night's gloomy jaws veil him darkly in shade! Nations are trembling, At his destructive splendor afraid!
"An Ender has the impudence to ask to see Miss Fewne!" "An Ender?" exclaimed the lady, her pretty lips parting with surprise. "Yes, and he declares you could not have the heart to say no, if you knew his story." "Is it possible, Miss Fewne," asked one admirer, "that your cruelty can have driven any one to have become an Ender?" Mabel's eyes seemed to glance inward, and she made no reply.
To be sure he might have learned the truth from Gus, who lived with me; but Gus would insist that I was hand in glove with all the nobility, and boasted about me ten times as much as I did myself. The chaps used to call me the "West Ender." "See," thought I, "what I have gained by Aunt Hoggarty giving me a diamond-pin!
Our East Ender is perhaps accustomed to publicity; his slum does not conceal its feelings it quarrels, and makes love, without drawn blinds, and privacy is not an essential of its ardours.
Even the East Ender, who had worked an edging of red and white wool into his pony's mane and hung rosettes of red, white, and blue at its ears, was too busy perspiring and hating his hundred thousand neighbours to smile. He was also busy weighing his chances of getting to Epsom Downs before Judgment Day. I admired his spirit in waving a whip with a knot of coloured ribbons.
So great was the excitement caused by Miss Fewne's appearance, that one Ender was heard to ask another who she was an exhibition of curiosity very unusual in that part of the town.
The barkeeper poured out a glass of brandy, and passed it over the bar, but the wounded man declined it; he also rejected a box of pills which was proffered. An Ender, who claimed to have been a physician, stooped over the victim, felt his pulse, and remarked: "Baggs, you're a goner." "I know it," said Baggs; "and I want to be prayed for." The barkeeper looked puzzled.
Here were groups representing the thrifty, hard-working London Jew of the second generation, small masters for the most part, pale with the confinement and "drive" of the workshop, men who are expelling and conquering the Gentile East Ender, because their inherited passion for business is not neutralised by any of the common English passions for spending above all by the passion for drink.
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