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Updated: June 26, 2025
And as all men like mastery, but especially Scotchmen, and as during even the first few months of the new Rector's tenure of office it became tolerably evident to Henslowe that young Elsmere would soon become the ruling force of the neighborhood unless measures were taken to prevent it, the agent, over his nocturnal drams, had taken sharp and cunning counsel with himself concerning the young man.
In it sat Heineman with a broad grin on his face and beside him a woman in a salmon-colored dress, ermine furs and an emerald-green hat. The cab drove off and Heineman, still grinning, walked up to the table. "Where's the lion cub?" asked Henslowe. "They say it's got pneumonia." "Mr. Heineman. Mr. Walters."
"If I thought I'd do any good, I'd stay.... But there's nothing I can do. Everybody's got to settle their own affairs, in their own damn fool way. So long, Walters." Walters and Henslowe shook hands absently. Henslowe came over to the bed and held out his hand to Andrews. "Look, old man, you will be as careful as you can, won't you? And write me care American Red Cross, Jerusalem.
By-and-by, however, as the Rector penetrated more deeply into the situation, he found his indignation transferring itself more and more from the man to the master. It became clear to him that in some respects Henslowe suited the Squire admirably.
If hate could have killed, Elsmere would have fallen where he stood. Yet the man's hand mechanically moved to his hat, as though the spell of his wife's harangue were still potent over his shaking muscles. Robert took no notice whatever of the salutation. He stood calmly watching till Henslowe disappeared into the last house.
'I have seen him, but I have not talked to him on this particular matter, said the Rector quietly, though the red mounted in his cheek. 'You may, however, be very sure, Mr. Henslowe, that everything I know about Mile End, the Squire shall know before long. 'Oh, lor' bless me, air! cried Henslowe with a guffaw, 'it's all one to me.
"Have you ever been on the stage?" asked Andrews. "What stage, sir? I'm in the last stages now, sir.... I am an artistic photographer and none other.... Moki and I are going into the movies together when they decide to have peace." "Who's Moki?" "Moki Hadj is the lady in the salmon-colored dress," said Henslowe, in a loud stage whisper in Andrews's ear. "They have a lion cub named Bubu."
He gave the man a few moments to recover himself, and then, as Henslowe turned round again, he silently and appealingly held out his hand the hand of the good man, which it was an honour for such as Henslowe to touch. Constrained by the moral force radiating from his look, the other took it with a kind of helpless sullenness.
Good day to you. And he turned away with as much of an attempt at dignity as his shaking limbs would allow of. 'Listen, Mr. Henslowe, said Robert firmly, walking beside him; 'you know I know that if this goes on, in a year's time you will be in your grave, and your poor wife and children struggling to keep themselves from the workhouse.
"Hell, no.... I've got five hundred dollars' worth of Russian bonds that girl Vera gave me.... But worth five million, ten million, fifty million if the Czar gets back.... I'm backing the little white father," cried Heineman. "Anyway Moki says he's alive; that Savaroffs got him locked up in a suite in the Ritz.... And Moki knows." "Moki knows a damn lot, I'll admit that," said Henslowe.
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