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Updated: May 18, 2025
Rawson and two or three of the staunchest Hardy men relieved Farnum of his charge in the cloak room and took care of the two doubtfuls. The seats of Bentley, Miller, Pitts and Killen were still vacant, and there was a tense watchfulness in the room that showed rumors were flying of a break in the deadlock.
Both of them were bound for the office of the candidate being supported by the progressives for the Senate. "Anything new?" Jeff asked. "A rumor that Killen has fallen by the wayside. Big Tim was with him for an hour last night at the Pacific." "I've not been sure of Killen for quite a while. He's a weak sister."
Killen, Rector of Tyrrilla, Co. Down, writes: "This is the famous potato-growing district. One-third of the crop is already affected, both in the pits and those in the ground." The Rev. Mr.
It had come home to him that the only way to satisfy his ambition was by making money and a lot of it. This morning, with the sharpness of his hunger rendering him irritable, he was in no mood to conciliate disaffectants to the cause of which he was himself beginning to weary. "Well?" he demanded sharply of Killen. "I've been looking for your cousin, but I can't find him.
The waverers will find in it their excuse for deserting. Of course Big Tim has been at them all night. We'll go right up to the House in your machine, Rawson. We haven't a moment to lose." Rawson nodded. "It's dollars to doughnuts the thing is past mending, but it's up to us to see. If I can only get at Killen in time I'll choke the story in his throat.
The wretched man drew the back of a trembling hand across his moist eyes. He inhaled a long sobbing breath and broke into apology for his weakness. "Haven't slept for a week except from trional. The back of my head pricks day and night. Can't think of anything but my troubles." "Unload them on me," Jeff said lightly. "It's that mortgage on my mill," Killen blurted out.
I suppose they ought to be left walk about, an' I'm a fair man. If th' blackest iv thim wint by now, I'd not raise me hand" "Hello," says Mr. McKenna, "here goes Killen, the Armagh man. They say he digs with his left foot." "Jawn," said Mr. Dooley, eagerly, "if ye run up on th' roof, ye'll find th' bricks loose in th' top row iv th' chimbley. Ye might hand him a few."
Hardy's face cleared. This was not the first waverer Jeff had brought back into line, not the first by several. There was something compelling in his friendly smile and affectionate manner. "I'm sure Mr. Killen intends only what is right. I'm content to leave the matter entirely with you and him," Hardy said. Jeff turned to Rawson. "And you, old warhorse?"
The keen-eyed, smooth-shaven man in a gray business suit who had been listening silently to the gathering storm contributed information briefly and impartially. "Mr. Killen spent an hour last night with Big Tim at the Pacific Hotel." "Sneaked in by the side entrance and took the elevator to the seventh floor. The deal was arranged in Room 743," added Rawson.
But Killen must have thought something was doing he wasn't in on. It seems he followed me to The Brakes yesterday afternoon when I called on Mrs. Van Tyle." "Followed you to The Brakes. Good Lord!" groaned Rawson. "What in Mexico were you doing there?" "Thought I mentioned that I was calling on Mrs. Van-Tyle," returned James stiffly.
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