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Poultney Bigelow, in "Harper's Magazine," in relating the story of Jameson's raid upon the Boers of South Africa, says that the triumphant Boers fell on their knees, thanking God for their victory; and that they prayed for their enemies, and treated their prisoners with the utmost kindness.
Poultney Bigelow was accused of being unpatriotic, disloyal, and even seditious because he told what I am now convinced was the truth about the state of affairs at Tampa; but it seems to me that when the lives of American soldiers are at stake it is a good deal more patriotic and far more in accordance with the duty of a good citizen to tell a disagreeable and unwelcome truth that may lead to a reform than it is to conceal the truth and pretend that everything is all right when it is not all right.
"Politics is politics. Eh?" he grunted. "It's a great game," returned the journalist. "Think up that 'call-me-Bob' business yourself?" "I got it from a reliable source." "Damn lie," remarked Poultney Masters equably. "Did the work, though. Banneker, why didn't you let me know you were in the market?" "In the stock-market? What has that "
Not a moment is to be lost in getting to Poultney Square. "Let us try to reconstruct the situation," said he as we drove swiftly past the Houses of Parliament and over Westminster Bridge. "These villains have coaxed this unhappy lady to London, after first alienating her from her faithful maid. If she has written any letters they have been intercepted.
High-booted scavengers with curious snake-like lengths of hose on little trolleys were sluicing the asphalt as the limousine snorted past the Mansion House into Poultney and Cheapside. The light was growing clearer now; the tube stations were open and from time to time a motor-bus whizzed by. Barbara stirred restlessly and Mrs. Malplaquet's grip on her wrist tightened.
In Thames Street the churchyard of All Hallows the Less still stands; in Queen Street that of St. Thomas Apostle, in Laurence Poultney Hill that of St. Laurence Poultney, a very large and well-kept churchyard; St. Dunstan's, All Hallows, Barking, St. Stephen's, Wallbrook all keep their churchyards still. That of St. Anne's, Blackfriars, stands retired behind the houses. But those of St.
Poultney; she's going to marry some person in Standard Oil, and her wedding will be a function. "Yes," I said, ignoring the latter question. "But why why " Mrs. Whitney squeaked and panted, and her breath failed. "Because was it because Ann Fredericks was asked too?" Meg demanded. "Yes, if you must know." "But what has Ann done?" said Meg.
"Half of the aspiring gilded youth of the city would give their eye-teeth to make it. How did you manage?" "I didn't manage. It was managed for me. Old Poultney Masters put me in." "Well, don't scowl at me! For a reporter, you know, it's rather an achievement to get into The Retreat." "I suppose so. Though I'm not a reporter now." "Well, for any newspaper man. What are you, by the way?"
He had been trying to get in touch with Poultney Illis for more than a fortnight, but his cables to London had brought no response. "When did he arrive?" "Just lately. He's a game old rooster, ain't he? Gee, he's sore!" "Sore about what?" Bulker winked again, with the same lack of muscular control. "About that North Pass deal, of course. He was blackmailed out of a cold million.
It was expensive; it would involve frequent taxi charges. But, as ever, Banneker had an unreasoning faith in a financial providence of supply. "Yes: I'll come in," he said. "That is, if I can get in." "You'll get in, with Poultney Masters for a backer. Otherwise, I'll tell you frankly, I think your business would keep you out, in spite of your polo."
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