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Updated: May 28, 2025
Time after time for punishing him I was a sick man!" "That's it! That's why so much of it was alone. I don't know why I should say it all to-night after after so many years of holding in." "Say what?" "You meant well, God knows a father never meant better, but it wasn't the way to handle our boy's nature with punishments, and a quick temper like yours. Your way was wrong, Mosher, and I knew it.
Aaron dwelt in a three-story, American-basement house in West 120th Street, near Lenox Avenue, with his son Leo, office manager of the Turkletaub Skirt Company, and who had recently married the eldest daughter of an exceedingly well-to-do Maiden Lane jewelry merchant. The Mosher Turkletaubs occupied an eight-room-and-two-baths apartment near by.
As the leader of Dick & Co. moved down the road, Tag turned in astonishment. "What's the matter?" Tag asked, at last. "We were in an automobile accident, and I was slightly injured," Dick confessed. "And you can hardly walk?" "I can walk only with effort and considerable pain," said Dick. Tag Mosher whistled softly. "My luck is leaving me," declared Mosher ruefully.
The first two weeks behind bars will kill me!" "You should have thought of that before you cracked Leigh's skull," retorted Deputy Valden. "I tell you that I didn't do it, and that I never before heard of a man of that name!" cried Tag Mosher fiercely. "Leigh says you did," the deputy again informed the prisoner. "Oh, well, then, we'll say that I did," agreed Tag moodily.
Tag Mosher, holding his shotgun under his left arm, stood confronting Laura and Belle. In his right, hand he held a gold chain and locket that he had snatched from Laura Bentley's neck. In one of his pockets, out of sight, now rested two valuable rings that he had forcibly stripped from one of Belle's hands. "Sorry, girls," he was saying. "I never did anything quite as bad as this before.
Tracy was watching as it went down the avenue, when little Harold Hastings appeared around the corner of the house, and, coming up the steps, took off his cap respectfully as he said: 'Grandma sends you her compliments, and is very sorry that she has rheumatism this morning and cannot come to-night to help you. She thinks, perhaps, you can get Mrs. Mosher.
Her boy could be as wayward as the fling to his fierce black head, and sickeningly often Mosher, with a nausea at the very pit of him, had wielded the lash.
"And remember, Prescott," called Simmons, "you've been aiding the county to-night, and the county will pay Doctor Cutting's bill." Valden and Simmons exchanged some words in an undertone, after which the latter deputy came over to where Prescott sat. "Valden tells me you have been interfering between him and Tag Mosher," began the officer. "How was it?"
"But I think I have a right to object when I see a human being tormented needlessly, haven't I?" "You have no right to interfere in any way with an officer," rejoined Valden less brusquely. "Nor do I intend trying to interfere with a peace officer in anything proper that he does," Dick went on quietly, though with spirit. "It seems that Tag Mosher has a right to rest himself by sitting down.
Mosher, bent almost double, was rolling a new and rapidly increasing sphere over the soft snow. The walls completed, the gang devoted themselves to filling in the crevices, smoothing the surface, and to testing the weak places in the fortress. A few busy minutes were spent in making ammunition, then Sid, his longing for leadership gratified at last, led his army behind the "U" shaped protection.
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