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Updated: June 15, 2025
"My father is never unjust," Christopher put in stoutly. "Your father? I beg your pardon, Mr. Christopher. I'd forgotten you were here, sir. No, your father always does the square thing," Hollings hastened to declare. "But he'll not understand. He'll think I should have been more careful! And so I had I won't deny it. But my wife and children my God!"
A. F. Pollard, Factors in European History , ch. i on "Nationality" and ch. iii on "The New Monarchy"; Cambridge Modern History, Vol. I, ch. xiv, xii, xi; Histoire generale, Vol. IV, ch. xiii, iv, v; History of All Nations, Vol. X, ch. xii-xvi; A. H. Johnson, Europe in the Sixteenth Century , ch. i, ii; Mary A. Hollings, Renaissance and Reformation , ch. i-v.
Hollings was near the door when he went in and had evidently been waiting for him. "Birdie is securely in his cage!" announced he, dropping his voice so that the thrilling tidings might not be overheard by customers close at hand. "What?" gasped Christopher. "Yes, he's bagged for fair! Your father is delighted. They're all upstairs waiting for you Corrigan, Davis, and all.
Not only did its occupants look grave they looked severe awesome. One glance and the lad did not wonder poor Hollings' knees knocked together. Mr. Norcross was imposing enough, but the inspector was even worse; and as for the senior partner of the firm well, he was Mr. Christopher Mark Antony Burton, third, arrayed in his most awful dignity. Even his son trembled before him.
"A sad shame as it was the night of your lecture, sir," the woman babbled on, "for they were all crazy to hear him. My! the hall was packed." "Would you mind seeing to my room now, Mrs. Hollings?" I asked. "I am going out early this morning." Mrs. Hollings ascended my frail little staircase. I finished my breakfast in haste, and catching up my hat escaped out of doors.
That was Hollings' constant lament. Round and round in a circle went he and Christopher, the lad constantly trying to brighten and encourage, and the clerk as invariably bringing up with this same doleful plaint. He was not to be comforted.
I guess that's all we need." "Do you think you will be able to " "To land the jewels, you mean? I can't tell you that, sir. It's too early in the game." "I suppose so. It was a foolish question." Evidently the inspector was of the same opinion, for he made no answer. "Well, that's all, Hollings," announced the great man, turning to his clerk. "You may go now."
He wishes to see the house detective, the salesman, and young Burton." "I guess I'm in for it," Hollings whispered to Mr. Rhinehart. "Nonsense! Tell the truth that's all you've got to do." "But I was such a duffer!" "I fumbled the ball, too, Mr. Hollings," interrupted Christopher consolingly. "Remember I didn't play a very brilliant game." "The game wasn't up to you, sonny," Hollings returned.
"You mean we have actually got the ring back diamonds and all?" put in Hollings, as if unable to make real the miracle. "We have thanks to Mr. Corrigan," was Mr. Burton's reply. "Thanks to young Christopher, you mean, sir," smiled the chief protestingly. "What can I do to thank you?" cried Hollings.
You were interrupted, Hollings. What about that bustard? A very tall, spare man, who seemed to rouse himself from a nap, resumed his story of bustard-stalking in Spain last spring. Carnaby, who knew the country well, listened with lively interest, and followed with reminiscences of his own. He told of a certain boar, shot in the Sierras, which weighed something like four hundred pounds.
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