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Updated: May 2, 2025
Find out when the next train goes to Reuton, and see that I'm at the station an hour or two before it pulls out." "I'll do that, Mrs. Norton," smiled Magee. "By the way, is Norton the name?" "Yes," answered the woman, "that's my name. Of course, it ain't hers. I can't tell that." "No matter," said Mr. Magee, "she'll probably change it soon.
Go home and get some clean collars and a square meal." "If you think I'm going to be shook off by any fairy story like that," said the mayor of Reuton "you're a child with all a child's touching faith." "All right," replied Mr. Bland, "I thought I'd pass you the tip, that's all. It ain't nothing to me what you do. But it's all over, and you've lost out.
"Hello," the young man was saying, "how do you work this thing, anyhow? I've tried every peg but the right one. Hello hello! I want long distance Reuton. 2876 West Mr. Andy Rutter. Will you get him for me, sister?" Another wait a long one ensued. The candle sputtered. The young man fidgeted in his chair. At last he spoke again: "Hello! Andy? Is that you, Andy? What's the good word?
He reflected on the events of his first few hours in that supposedly uninhabited solitude where he was to be alone with his thoughts. He pondered the way and manner of the flippant young man who posed as a lovelorn haberdasher, and under whose flippancy there was certainly an air of hostility. Who was Andy Rutter, down in Reuton?
And still, like that of beasts, the mutter of the mob went on, now in an undertone, now louder, and still that voice that first had plead for tar and feathers plead still for feathers and tar. And here a group preferred the rope. And toward them, with the bland smile of a child on his great face, his cigar tilted at one angle, his derby at another, the mayor of Reuton walked unflinchingly.
It may mean the discovery of a serum it may mean so cruel a thing as the blighting of another's life romance." She gazed steadily at the stolid Cargan. "It may mean putting an end forever to those picturesque parades past the window of the little room on Main Street the room where the boys can always find the mayor of Reuton." Still she gazed steadily into Cargan's eyes.
"It's all straight," said the other in a hurt tone. "Every word true. My name is Joseph Bland. My profession, until love entered my life, was that of haberdasher and outfitter. In the city of Reuton, fifty miles from here, I taught the Beau Brummels of the thoroughfares what was doing in London in the necktie line. I sold them coats with padded shoulders, and collars high and awe inspiring.
While the others gathered in little groups and talked, he took her to one side. "When does the next train leave for Reuton?" he asked her. "In two hours at ten-thirty," she replied. "You must be on it," he told her. "With you will go the two-hundred-thousand-dollar package. I have it in my pocket now." She took the news stolidly, and made no reply. "Are you afraid?" asked Magee gently.
Max slouched in the unresponsive company of a cigarette on one side of the car; across the aisle the mayor of Reuton leaned heavily above a card-table placed between two seats. He was playing solitaire. Mr. Magee wondered whether this was merely a display of bravado against scheming reformers, or whether Mr. Cargan found in it real diversion.
It was I who had to brace him up. I I even tried to joke with him. But his face was like death. He hardly spoke at all at first, and then suddenly he became horribly talkative. I left him talking wildly I left Reuton. I left the girl to whom I was engaged." To break the silence that followed, Mr. Magee leaned forward and stirred the logs.
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