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At that moment she happened to glance at the right hand of Mr. Belmont. In the brilliance of the electric light she could see the fair skin of the wrist and forearm within the whiteness of his shirt-sleeve. She stared at what she saw, every muscle tense. 'I guess you can round up Mr. Pank yourself, my dear, later on, said Lionel Belmont, and turned quickly away, intent on the next thing.
"One, two, three, four!" "Come on, fellows; get ahead of that Gridley crowd, where we can't hear 'em," urged Hartwell. "Hanky pank!" At that the Preston canoe managed to get a slight lead. Dick did not vary his count, however. He had no objection to being led slightly to the upper buoy. Soon, however, Preston High School made the distance two lengths. Dick began to count a bit faster.
The clever daughter of the gentleman who entertains Pank at his home reads a satirical poem on the then popular literature, but expressly disclaims any attack on Yorick or “Siegwart,” and asserts that her bitterness is intended for their imitators. Lotte, Pank’s sensible and unsentimental, long-suffering fiancée, makes further comment on the “apes” of Yorick, “Werther,” and “Siegwart.”
Pank is one of the principal playwrights in the United States. Mr. Pank's melodrama 'Nebraska' is now being played at the Regency by Mr. Belmont's own American company. Another of Mr. Belmont's companies starts shortly for a tour in the provinces with the musical comedy 'The Dolmenico Doll. I believe that Mr. Pank and Mr.
If I leave him mid a lawyer, he say, Mr Von Sheik, you gub it to me. If I put him into de pank, den de ting shall break, and my forten go smash, squash vot dey call von shilling in de pound. If I lock him up, den soldier steal and desert away, and conetry people shall hide him, and I will not find him no more. I shall mortgage it on a farm. I feel vary goot, vary pig, and vary rich.
Lionel Belmont was a villain, or he would not have deserted her poor dear mother; it was annoying, but indubitable.... Even now he was maturing his plans round the corner with that Mr. Pank.... Burglars always went about in shirt-sleeves.... The brown bag contained the tools.... The shock was frightful, disastrous, tragic; but it had solved the situation by destroying it.
She longed to recline indolently in a priceless tea-gown on the couch by the fireplace and issue orders.... She approached the writing-table, littered with papers, documents, in scores and hundreds. To the left was the brown bag. It was locked, and very heavy, she thought. To the right was a pile of telegrams. She picked up one, and read: 'Pank, Grand Hotel, Birmingham. Why not burgle hotel?
'How much? demanded the stranger. 'The bedrooms are twenty-five shillings, and the sitting-room two guineas. 'I guess Mr. Pank won't mind that. Hullo, Pank, you're here! I'm through. Your number's 102 or 120, which you fancy. Just going to the 'phone a minute, and then I'll join you upstairs. Mr. Pank was a younger man, possessing a thin, astute, intellectual face.
And the landlord had ever insisted that no one, no one at all, could always distinguish with certainty between a real gent and a swell-mobsman. So her father and Mr. Pank had deceived everyone in the hotel except herself, and they meant to rob the safe in the bureau to-morrow night. Of course Mr.
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