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Updated: May 4, 2025
He smoked his pipe reflectively as I wrote out the letter to the Bank Manager, asking him to send up two men to count over Jake's hoard and take it back with them, giving him a receipt to cover. "Know any good lawyers, George? Most of them ginks are grafters from away back, so I've heard, but I guess maybe there's one or two could do a job on the level." "Of course there are, Jake.
"These college ginks ain't so bad at that when you get to know 'em with their dress-suits off." "He's a reg'lar feller, that's all," was Mike's philosophical response. "Edjication couldn't kill it in 'im." A hundred yards offshore was the beautiful steam yacht of the Van Clefts', the "White Swan." Lights on the deck and a few glowing portholes showed unusual activity aboard.
His gray eyes travelled from one to another, lingered an instant on Helena, and came back to the Flopper. "What's the trouble?" he demanded quietly. It was Pale Face Harry who answered him. "The Flopper's got it in for a couple of ginks that handed him one a bull and a chauffeur on a gape-wagon," he grinned, punctuating his words with a cough.
It's a serial story, and will be continued in our next issue. What did you say about the pumps stopping, Canfield?" "They've stopped, all right!" the caretaker replied. "Are you going to let the ginks flood the mine?" asked Sandy. "While I was out a few moments ago," Canfield explained, "I notified one of the clerks in the company's office to send up a gang of men to repair the machinery.
"I'll give the call of the Beaver Patrol and tell those ginks who have been giving the call of the pack that we're lost! That ought to bring them out of their holes." The Beaver call was given time after time, but no reply came. "Say," Tommy said after his patience had become exhausted, "I believe it's daylight. Look at your watch. I left mine in the bed!"
Aunty's one of the kind that would pick out a Count for Miss Vee, and there was plenty of Counts over there to be picked; but somehow I couldn't picture Vee goin' wild over one of them foreign ginks. It was clear she had, though. There it was on the postcard, "He's a dear!" "Huh!" thinks I. "Most of 'em are dear at any price."
He's one of these slow motioned, quiet talking ginks, with restful ways, such as would fit easy into a swivel chair and hold down a third vice-president's job for life. Or he might be a champion chess player. So when the boss goes on to say how Mr. McCrea is connected with the Washington sleuth bureau I expect I must have gawped at him a bit curious.
"I don't know," said Sally, for he had fixed her with a penetrating gaze and seemed to be pausing for a reply. "Nor nobody else," said the stripling vehemently. "A lot of stiffs out on the coast, that's all. Ginks nobody has ever heard of, except Cyclone Mullins, and it took that false alarm fifteen rounds to get a referee's decision over him.
"Look here, Will," Tommy said, "Are you sure we made a good search of those three ginks? They've got the money all right!" "How do you know they did?" demanded Will. "That fat man over there who looks as if he was about to bust," Tommy grinned, "is Mr. Carson, the man who hid the money and couldn't find it again. He's just been looking in the place where he concealed it, and it isn't there!
"Stick to him and you'll wear diamonds that's what he tries to put across," was Lise's comment on Mr. Frear's method, and thus Janet gained the impression that her sister's feelings were not deeply involved. "If I thought he'd make good with the sprinkler I might talk business. But say, he's one of those ginks that's always tryin' to beat the bank. He's never done a day's work in his life.
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