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Updated: June 21, 2025
Ramsdell met the smile with impenetrable gravity. None the less, a look in the tail of his eye set Opdyke wondering whether, indeed, the message from the doctor was quite the accident it seemed. "Send him up, of course, Ramsdell. Doctor Keltridge is too busy a man to be kept waiting," he said briefly. To his extreme surprise, Katharine took the hint and rose. "And I must go, Mr. Opdyke.
With Ramsdell seated by his side, blanks in one hand, fountain pen in the other, Opdyke paused to consider. "Well, there's no use beating about the bush. I may as well go straight to the point. Ready, Ramsdell? All right. To H. P. Whittenden, Seven, Blank Street, New York City. Sure you've got that right? All right. Then: Getting badly bored and losing grip fast. Come pull me out. Opdyke.
* See an article on "The Confederate Government and the Railroads" in the "American Historical Review," July, 1917, by Charles W. Ramsdell. As a result of this lack of efficient organization an immense congestion resulted all along the railroads. Whether this, rather than a failure in supply, explains the approach of famine in the latter part of the war, it is today very difficult to determine.
And then he saw himself the centre of a group of white-coated surgeons, with Ramsdell's face beside him, Ramsdell's curiously gentle arm around his shoulders. He saw himself, again with Ramsdell, this time at home, and with the stanch old doctor at his other side.
He asked me if I had heard that you were growing very nervous lately. That you Well, never mind the rest of it. In the time of it, though, I supposed that it was his novelist's imagination that had got to work. Now I know it was only another manifestation of the almighty Ramsdell." "He is almighty, Dolph. I'd be badly off without him." "So I observe." Dolph chuckled.
On arriving in town, they were met by the officer whom they had spoken with the day before, and he told them, after they had found a comfortable seat in the court-room, of all that had been learned of the prisoners. Their names were William Dean and Henry Ramsdell, and they had worked for some time in Oil City for a civil engineer there.
Ramsdell had disclaimed from the first all knowledge of it, consequently one could but feel justified in asking whether a man of Mr. Durand's judgment would choose such an extraordinary weapon in meditating so startling a crime which from its nature and circumstance could not fail to attract the attention of the whole civilized world.
That's all, Ramsdell. Send it off, to-night." Next afternoon, Whittenden came, to all seeming the same unspoiled, curly-headed youngster who had helped to open Brenton's eyes, so long ago, to the real good there was in life, despite the melancholy teachings of his early Calvinism. The professor was busy with a class, Mrs.
Later, that night, after Ramsdell had shunted him back into bed, and had covered him up as carefully as one covers a six-months baby, and had put the room in order for the night, and then had uttered his nightly query if that was "really hall, sir," left to himself, Reed Opdyke set out to become very philosophical as concerned his predicament.
Then the arm came down, and the heavy eyes met Whittenden's. "That's why I sent for you," Reed said. "I wanted you." Ramsdell, in the next room, had quite a little doze, before once more the voices waked him. "You see," Reed said at last, as if there had been no pause at all; "I was a little in the state those fellows were in, up at the mine. I needed something equivalent to their extreme unction.
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