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Updated: May 21, 2025
Jones cannot despise. So, you see, your daughter is right. Your name and face is yet to be stamped on a government bank note, Mr. Rushcroft, and until that time comes you are no better off than I or any of the rest of the unfortunates who, being still alive, have to eat for a living." "You speak in parables," said Mr. Rushcroft, arising.
He was therefore able to catch Mr. Rushcroft in the very reprehensible act of taking liberties with the designs of the author. The "star," after a sharp and rather startled look at the newcomer, deliberately "cut" four stanzas and rushed somewhat hastily through the concluding verse, marring a tremendous climax. A genial smile wiped the tragic expression from his face.
"With your acumen and my eccentricity united in a common cause we will stagger the universe." Despite his rehabilitation as a gentleman of means and independence, Mr. Rushcroft could not forego the pleasure of staggering a small section of the world that very night. He was giving Hamlet's address to the players in the tap-room when Barnes came downstairs at nine o'clock.
His theories, deductions and suggestions as to the designs and identity of Roon and Paul; the stated results of personal and no doubt ludicrous experiments; sly and confidential jabs at the incompetent investigators, uttered behind the hand to Putnam Jones and, if possible, to the book-agent; a quixotic philanthropy in connection with the fortunes of Rushcroft and his players; all these would have to be put forward in the scheme to dispel suspicion at Green Fancy.
Rushcroft whether he would have bean soup or noodles, she wanted to know whether she should speak the line this way or that. She had a faraway, strained look in her eyes, and she mumbled so incessantly that one of the guests got up and went out to see Mr. Jones about it.
He raised both arms in a gesture of complete dejection. "My God!" "Says it looks suspicious," went on Mr. Bacon, "flocking with us as you do. He mentioned something about birds of a feather." Mr. Rushcroft arose majestically. "I shall see the man myself, Mr. Barnes. His infernal insolence " "Pray do not distress yourself, my dear Rushcroft," interrupted Barnes. "He is quite within his rights.
"So I'll cut it out," remarked Rushcroft quaintly. "I will be everlastingly grateful to you, Mr. Barnes, if you'll fix things up with Jones. God knows when or whether I can ever reimburse you, but as I am not really a dead-beat the time will certainly come when I may begin paying in installments. Do we understand each other?" "We do," said Barnes, and started downstairs with him.
"Is it possible that you have forgotten the celebrated case of Rushcroft vs. Rushcroft, not more than six years back? Good Lord, man, it was one of the most sensational cases that ever But I see that you do not recall it. You must have been abroad at the time. I don't believe I ever knew of a case being quite so admirably handled by the press as that one was.
Standing at the top table, that is to say, the one farthest removed from the door and commanding the attention of every creature in the room was the imposing figure of Lyndon Rushcroft. He was reciting, in a sonorous voice and with tremendous fervour, the famous Kipling poem. Barnes had heard it given a score of times at The Players in New York, and knew it by heart.
Bacon and Dillingford having returned earlier in the evening with the trunks, bags and other portable chattels of the defunct "troupe," Mr. Rushcroft was performing in a sadly wrinkled Norfolk suit of grey which Dillingford was under solemn injunction to press before breakfast the next morning.
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