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Updated: May 18, 2025
We're not in the primer class, Killen. Don't get a notion you're going to do as you damn please. You'll vote for R. K. Hardy. Get that?" "I refuse to be moved by threats, and I decline to discuss the matter further," retorted Killen with a pitiable attempt at dignity. Rawson laughed with insulting menace. "That's a good one. I've sold out, but it's none of your business what I got.
But I want to tell you that folks will talk a lot when they know how you and Big Tim fixed up a deal " Killen, backing toward the door as he spoke, broke off to hasten his exit before the lawyer's threatening advance. James slammed the door shut on him and paced up and down in an impotent fury of passion. "The dirty little blackleg! He'd like to bracket me in the same class as himself.
"Have it your own way, but don't forget there's a nigger in the woodpile." Jeff and Killen walked to the office of the latter, which was on the next floor of the Century Building, the legislator stiffening his will to resist the assaults he felt would be made upon it. But as soon as the door was shut Jeff surprised him by laying a hand on his shoulder. "Tell me all about it, Sam." Killen gasped.
He flung a question, "anything of Bentley, Akers?" "Mr. Bentley! Why, yes, sir. He was called to the telephone a few minutes ago and he left at once. Mr. Miller went with him, and Mr. Pitts." "Were Ashton and Reilly here then?" "No, sir. They came in a moment before you did." Rawson drew Farnum to one side and whispered. "Killen must have gone right from your room to Big Tim.
He had always known it. But yesterday that old giant at The Brakes had hammered it home to him. He did not like to admit even to himself that his folly had betrayed Hardy's cause, but at bottom he knew he should not have gone to The Brakes until after the election and that he ought never to have let Killen out of the office without an explanation.
The plump Jewess looked a little out of things. “I know,” she sighed, “they tell me it 'u'd make me thin, too, but my folks don't let me go out no place.” Whereat we changed to polishing off profiteers and the high cost of living. The Jewish girl's brother knew we were headin' straight for civil war. “They'll be comin' right in folks' homes and killen 'em before a year's out.
"How much is the mortgage?" "Three thousand," replied the man; and he added with a gust of weak despair, "My God, man! That mill's all I've got to keep bread in the mouths of my motherless children." "I reckon Big Tim has offered to cancel the mortgage notes and give you about a thousand to go on," Jeff suggested casually. Killen nodded.
"It falls due this month and I can't meet it. Things haven't been going well with me." "Can't you get it renewed?" "Through a dummy Big Tim has bought it up. He won't renew, unless " Killen broke off, to continue in a moment: "And that ain't all. My little girl needs an operation awful badly. The doctor says she had ought to go to Chicago. I just can't raise the price."
He got an impossible vision of young Farnum as his brother in trouble. "About what? I didn't say " "I've known for a week something was wrong. I couldn't very well ask you, but since I've blundered in you'd better let me help you if I can." Killen was touched. His lip trembled. "It don't do any good to talk about things. I guess a fellow has to carry his own griefs.
"It would put me on my feet again and give the kiddie her chance." The answer had slipped out naturally, but now the fear chilled him that he had been lured into making a confession. "I didn't say I was going to take it," he added hastily. "You're quite safe with me, Killen," Jeff told him. He was wondering whether he could not get Captain Chunn to take over the mortgage.
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