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Updated: June 9, 2025
"I drew this out against your coming. This is a certified cheque for £400,000, that is nearly two million dollars, which I am authorized to hand to Oliva's husband on the day of her wedding." Beale took it from the other's fingers, read it carefully and tore it into little pieces, after which conversation flagged. After awhile Beale asked: "What do I have to do to get a divorce?"
His attempt, aided by a walking-stick used as a balancing-pole, to keep his equilibrium on six inches of kerbing, might have been funny to a less sensitive soul than Oliva's. He slipped, recovered himself with a little whoop, slipped again, and finally gave up the attempt, crossing the road to his home. He recognized the doctor with a flourish of his hat.
Jake could understand Oliva's error. Payne's moral code was rudimentary, but he had some racial pride and would not act like a treacherous renegade. "I begin to see how your account against Oliva stands," he remarked. "But is that the only entry in your book?" "I guess not," Payne replied. "Mr. Brandon's name is there, but the entry is against myself.
Poor dear M. Lenoir was right when he wrote to me in the matter of the Queen's necklace, 'You will never do any good, when he heard that I did not stay under that slut Oliva's bed."
"You seem anxious to get back to the city, my friend," I said, half jocosely. "Si, davvero!" he replied, with decision, "I hope to get many a good fare from the Count Oliva's marriage-ball to-night."
It was Oliva's bedroom, and her workday hat and coat were lying on the bed. He opened the long cupboard where she kept her limited wardrobe. He knew, because it was his business to know, every dress she possessed. They were all there as, also, were the three hats which she kept on a shelf.
He watched him racing down the stairs, darted to the door of Oliva's rooms, opened it and went in. In ten seconds she had been lifted from her narrow prison and laid on her bed, the box had been returned to the place where it had stood in the doctor's study and the men had returned to join van Heerden in Oliva's darkened sitting-room.
Brandon they meant to knock out." He paused and added in a significant tone: "They're after him yet." "Hadn't you better tell us whom you mean by 'they'?" Dick asked. "Oliva's gang. There are toughs in the city who'd kill you for fifty cents." "Does that account for your buying the pistol when you came here?" "It does," Payne admitted dryly.
"You're a smart kid, but we'd have bluffed you all right if the fool had allowed he used the same cement." Then he followed Oliva, and Stuyvesant got up. "That was Oliva's mistake," he remarked. "I saw where you were leading him and you put the questions well. Now, however, you'll have to take on his duties until we get another man."
"Very well," said Dick, giving him some papers, and then indicated two different rows of the small concrete blocks. "These marked A were made from cement in our store; the lot B from some I took from Oliva's stock on the mole. They were subjected to the same compressive, shearing, and absorbent tests, and you'll see that there's very little difference in the results.
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