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Updated: June 23, 2025
In the meantime, however, two things had happened to curdle Froelich's enthusiasm. First, his claim against the Tornado Casualty Company had been approved, and second, he had been informed on credible authority that they had got the wrong boy.
What?" inquired Tutt, popping across the threshold. "Who I mean " "Raphael B. Hogan!" "The devil!" ejaculated Tutt. "You've said it!" declared Mr. Asche devoutly. That evening under cover of darkness Mr. Ephraim Tutt descended from a dilapidated taxi at the corner adjacent to Froelich's butcher shop, and several hours later was whisked uptown again to the brownstone dwelling occupied by the Hon.
When Terry McGurk hove the brick through the window of Froelich's butcher shop he did it casually, on general principles, and without any idea of starting anything.
Through the swirl of its gyrations he could see old Tutt's vulture eyes, growing bigger, fiercer, more sinister every instant. It was all up with him! It was an execution, and the crowd down below were thirsting for his blood, waiting to tear him to bits! "You saw this boy throw a brick through Mr. Froelich's window, didn't you?" coaxed Judge Watkins insinuatingly.
"You're a hell of a feller, you are!" he growled, and turned his back on him as upon Satan. The brick that Terry McGurk hurled as a matter of principle through Froelich's window produced almost as momentous consequences as the want of the horseshoe nail did in Franklin's famous maxim. It is the unknown element in every transaction that makes for danger. The morning after the catastrophe Mr.
"I propose nothing at all, Mr. Crane." "What, after her getting those passports?" Clancey twisted his moustache. "That's a matter which concerns spheres altogether over my head, Mr. Crane." "But Mr. Ramsey says that it's entirely owing to Mr. Froelich's introduction that he provided the lady with passports, that he'd known her through him, and having been a friend of Mr.
Froelich's name was German, and of course it was natural that he would have German sympathies." "Um! And what do you think, Mr. Crane?" The Assistant Commissioner was silent for a moment. "You see, I don't know Mr. Froelich," he said. "But you do know Mr. Ramsey," replied Clancey. "Not well." "What about his chief? You know him well enough. Why not ask him?"
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