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Updated: May 1, 2025
Er er Where is it, Phin?" Phineas burst out laughing. "'Where is it, Phin?" he repeated, mockingly. "By godfreys mighty, I believe you do know where 'tis, Shavin's! You ain't gettin' any of it, are you? You ain't dividin' up with the blasted jailbird?" Jed was very pale. His voice shook as he essayed to speak. "Wh-what jailbird?" he faltered. "What do you mean?
The two men shook him, quite ready to ill treat him if he made a movement, for he was their prey now. He had become a jailbird, caught by those hunters of criminals who would not let him go again. "Now, start!" the brigadier said, and they set off.
It's screw open her poor hands I had to, for the readin' of the letter that had been eatin' 'er for all them days of waitin'. Ye hussy! Ye jailbird and me niver thinkin' but what it was the sick cousin! Me niver smellin' the mice! Your own girl friend, neither. Ye hussy! Jailbird!" "Oh! Oh! Oh!" "It's only because she was sainted I'm lettin' ye up in on her.
What what are you talkin' about, Phin?" "'What are you talkin' about, Phin? God sakes, hear him, will you! All right, I'll tell you what I'm talkin' about. I'm talkin' about Sam Hunniwell's pet, his new bookkeeper up there to the bank. I'm talkin' about that stuck-up, thievin' hypocrite of a Charlie Phillips, that's who I'm talkin' about. I called him a jailbird, didn't I? Well, he is.
He lay as meek as a lamb while Tom used a lot of the spare cord in taking sundry hitches around the negro's wrists. "I don't believe he'll get out of that," said Reade grimly, "Now, we'll fix his feet." This, too, was done, and Sambo lay helpless on the ground. "You'll make a fine-looking jailbird, my friend," mocked Tom, looking down at the prisoner.
When all is said and done it is harder to find employment for a jailbird, even if reformed, than for any other class of man, because so damaged a human article has but little commercial value in the Labour market.
"We want exactly one hundred thousand dollars." Greenbaum laughed derisively. "A hundred thousand fiddlesticks! This old jailbird swindled another crook, Bloom " "Oh, Bloom was a crook too, was he?" chuckled Mr. Tutt. "He worked for your firm, didn't he?" "That's nothing to do with it!" retorted Greenbaum angrily.
"What's the matter with your intellect? You know it wasn't going along at all! You simply had us chasing shadows. Good God! I ought to have made you tell me what you were planning. Think of it! Think of me waltzing down there like a boob and thinking you had something real to offer." "But you frightened her with that jailbird. You should have brought a real clergyman."
But the courier thought it perfectly safe." "It is perfectly safe," said the courier contemptuously. "I have been over it twenty times. There may have been some old jailbird called a King in the time of our grandmothers; but he belongs to history if not to fable. Brigandage is utterly stamped out."
I have been told since that Dr. Bretton was not nearly so perfect as I thought him: that his actual character lacked the depth, height, compass, and endurance it possessed in my creed. I don't know: he was as good to me as the well is to the parched wayfarer as the sun to the shivering jailbird. I remember him heroic. Heroic at this moment will I hold him to be.
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