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On showing it to Mr Praeger and his family, they at once recognised it as having been worn by Miss Hargrave, thus leaving us in no doubt on the subject. It was too late that night to follow up the trail, though every moment was precious.
Praeger seemed to read his mind. "I can get the stuff sent, Gordon. I'm head of the shipping committee for this quadrant. But why in hell should I? The last time, every car was looted in Outer Marsport. If they won't let us get the oil and chemicals we need, why should we feed them?" "Ever see starvation?" Gordon asked, wishing again someone else who'd felt it could carry the message.
Lifting him up between them, they carried him to the waggons. "I'm main sure that Mr Praeger will be grateful to the gentlemen," I heard one of the men say. As the man uttered the name, the thought flashed across me, "Could it have been one of his daughters, or Miss Hargrave, I had seen carried off? Poor Armitage, how fearful would be his feelings should he find that his Ellen had disappeared.
We got enough so most people won't starve to death for another week, I guess. But you'd better get Praeger to send something, Gordon. Here, here's the scratch we scraped up." He passed over a bag filled with a collection of small bills and coins. "We can trust you, I guess," he said dully. "Remember you with Murdoch, anyhow.
He'd almost forgotten that Marsport was the center of a thinly populated area, stretching for a thousand miles in all directions beyond the city, connected by the winding link of the electric monorail. "So there really is a surrounding countryside," he said. Praeger nodded. He was a big, open-faced man, just turning bald. His handshake was firm and friendly.
His guide, counsellor, friend, and, I doubt not, inspirer of most of his great achievements, Praeger, tells a fine story of this part of his life; and one can have no hesitation in calling it a pack of lies.
But Liszt visited him; Praeger undoubtedly did; Bülow, as said, was with him for some time; the Wesendoncks, his greatest pecuniary benefactors after a while, were there; Wille and his wife were there; Alexander Ritter, son of Frau Ritter, who made Wagner a regular allowance from 1851 to 1856, became his firm friend, and afterwards married one of his nieces; there were Baumgärtner and Sulzer in fact, a bare list of names would fill a few pages.
The ladies of the family, I should say, did not sit down to table, as they had already taken their evening meal, and insisted on waiting upon us. Peter Praeger returned sooner than was expected with the doctor, whom he found on a visit to a family five or six miles off.
The captain, however, got up the steps by merely leaning on Mr Praeger's arm. In a few minutes all three were placed in bed, Mrs Praeger declaring that it was the only place fit for either of them, though her son was certainly the most hurt. The young ladies were so busy during the evening, flitting about here and there, that I could scarcely tell how many there were of them.
Ferdinand Praeger had known Wagner in his university days. They seem to have been barely acquainted; but the moment Praeger found Wagner was coming he scented advertisement for himself, as is usual with his kind the kind being the foreign professor settled in London.
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