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"Well, you had no cause to feel that way," he went on, "because, as a newspaperman, I'm supposed to have few friends and no enemies. Besides, you can't tell what a man might sink to, deprived all at once of the friendship of three such men as you fellows!" "Quite right," said I; "but get to the point." "I'm getting to it," said he.
The tone of the manifestation was good-humoured, but it was not gratulatory. He looked at his watch again, and saw that five minutes more had elapsed, and he remembered what the newspaperman in Charles Street had said about Olive's guaranteeing Verena's punctuality.
Only yesterday I was able to get a passport for your friend Herr Stubbs." "What?" cried Hal. "Stubbs gone into Germany?" "I supposed you knew that," said Block. "I supposed he was one of you." "No," said Chester, "Stubbs is what he represents himself to be a war correspondent." "Nevertheless," said Block, "he has gone into Germany as Herr Klepstein, a Dutch newspaperman."
"Acute chap. Newspaperman. Name of Gootes. Jacson Gootes, Daily Intelligencer, not Thrilling Wonder Stories." I thought I saw an answer to my most pressing problem. One has to stoop occasionally to methods which, if they didnt lead to important ends, might almost be termed petty; but afterall there was no reason Mr Jacson Gootes shouldnt buy me a dinner in return for information valuable to him.
Here communed we three, blown from various winds, to this local Bohemia: Max, native of the free German City of Frankfort, operatic manager in Rio Janeiro, musician in New York, Denver resident by adoption, Philadelphia newspaperman by preference; Breffny, born in a Spanish village, reared in Continental countries, professedly an Irishman, but more than half-Latin in temperament and appearance, a cyclopedia for the benefit of his friends, and myself.
The widow of a wealthy Pittsburgh newspaperman, she was now active in Pennsylvania suffrage organizations. Her daughters, Rachel and Julia, early became interested in the cause. E. C. Stanton to Laura Collier, Jan. 21, 1886, Elizabeth Cady Stanton Papers, Vassar College Library. Mary Livermore criticized the History as poorly edited.
The government set them up, gave them a mixture of powers, and has been trying to keep them from working ever since. But somehow they did clean up Venus; and every crook here is scared to death of the name. How come a muckraking newspaperman like you never turned up anything on them, Gordon?" Gordon shrugged. It was the first reference he'd heard to his background, and he preferred to let it drop.
Of American cocktails he had a fair working knowledge, and he appreciated ragtime. But of the other great American institutions he was completely ignorant. He was on his way now to see Gates. Gates was a comparatively recent addition to his list of friends, a New York newspaperman who had come to England a few months before to act as his paper's London correspondent.
The editor knew Olson only slightly. "He's a Swede big, fair fellow got caught in that irrigation fake of Hull and Cunningham. Don't know what he was doin' in Denver," the newspaperman said. Lane decided that he would see Olson and have a talk with him. Incidentally, he meant to see all the Dry Valley men who had been in Denver at the time Cunningham was killed.
A muttered exclamation from Hawkins caused him to look up quickly. The newspaperman was handing Billings a cigar-shaped capsule half filled with a coarse white powder. "What's this, Jack?" he asked. "Looks like sugar. Found it in the grub-locker." Billings poured the contents of the capsule into the palm of his hand. For a moment he scrutinized it intently.
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