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Updated: May 15, 2025
As he said this, the young man shoved towards the author a letter which he had written, and Mr. Ringamy looked at it critically. "Very good, Scriver, very good indeed. In fact, if I were put in the witness-box I am not sure that I would be able to swear that this was not my signature. What's this you have said in the body of the letter about sentiment?
Ringamy was thinking about this, when the door opened, and a tall, intellectual-looking young man entered from the study that communicated with the library. He placed on the table the bunch of letters he had in his hand, and, drawing up a chair, opened a blank notebook that had, between the leaves, a lead pencil sharpened at both ends. "Good morning, Mr.
Johnson Ringamy sat in his library looking out of the window, but the day was not as pleasant as when he last gazed at the hills, and the woods, and green fields. A wild spring storm lashed the landscape, and rattled the raindrops against the pane. Mr. Ringamy waited for some time and then opened the study door and looked in. The little room was empty.
When the task was finished, Scriver said: "I would like to get a couple of days off, Mr. Ringamy. I have some private business to attend to." "When could you get back?" "I'll report to you on Thursday morning." "Very well, then. Not later than Thursday. I think I'll take a couple of days off myself." On Thursday morning Mr.
You see the lady who writes has been getting up a 'Ringamy Club' in Kalamazoo, and she asks you to give her an autographic sentiment which they will cherish as the motto of the club. So I wrote the sentence, 'All classes of labor should have equal compensation. If that won't do, I can easily change it. "Oh, that will do first rate first rate."
The view was very pleasant, and the early morning sun brought out in strong relief the fresh greenness of the trees that now had on their early spring suits of foliage. Mr. Ringamy had been a busy man, but now, if he cared to take life easy, he might do so, for few books had had the tremendous success of his latest work. Mr.
"Of course it is awful rot, but I thought it would please the feminine mind." "Awful what did you say, Mr. Scriver?" "Well, slush if that expresses it better. Of course, you don't believe any such nonsense." Mr. Johnson Ringamy frowned as he looked at his secretary. "I don't think I understand you," he said, at last. "Well, look here, Mr.
Ringamy, speaking now, not as a paid servant to his master, but " "Now, Scriver, I won't have any talk like that. There is no master or servant idea between us. There oughtn't to be between anybody. All men are free and equal." "They are in theory, and in my eye, as I might say if I wanted to make it more expressive."
The papers did not say where the body was found, except that it was near the exhibition buildings, and His Highness never knew that he made that excellent speech directly over the body of a dead man. Mr. Johnson Ringamy, the author, sat in his library gazing idly out of the window.
My exact mutation of your signature has enabled me to withdraw £10,000 from your bank account. Half the profits, you know. You can send future accumulations, for the book will continue to sell, to the address of "ADAM SCRIVER. "Poste Restant, Madrid, Spain" Mr. Ringamy at once put the case in the hands of the detectives, where it still remains.
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