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Updated: May 14, 2025
Schultz, who laughed. Evidently it was very good news, for even the quartermaster at the companion ladder smiled covertly.
And when he had accomplished that, as the cases of Ernest, Lody, and Schultz eloquently attest, he determined to see that every move of the English expeditionary force on the Continent should be guarded from German espionage." Sir Henry paused and poured out a cup of tea. He tasted it. It was cold, and he put the cup down on the table. "That's how St. Alban came to be in France," he said.
"Sir, what have I to do with Miss Schultz?" he inquired. "Oh come now," said the cheerful Robin, "aren't you looking for her?" "I am in search of my niece, sir." "Yes. Miss Schultz." "No sir," said Fritzing, controlling himself with an effort, "not Miss Schultz. I neither know Miss Schultz nor do I care a " "Sir, sir," interposed the vicar, hastily.
"I do not care a pfenning for any Miss Schultz." The vicar looked much puzzled. "There was a young lady," he said, "waiting under that tree over there for her uncle who had gone, she said, to see Lady Shuttleworth's agent about the cottage by the gate. She said her uncle's name was Schultz." "She said she was Miss Ethel Schultz," said Robin.
Sid Strang gazed at the leading lady in the white lingerie dress with the pink slip, and the V-shaped neck, and the spangled scarf, and turned to Pearlie. "Why, Pearlie Schultz!" he said reproachfully. "How can you ask? You know what a strawberry social means to me! I haven't missed one in years!" "I know it," replied Pearlie, with a grin.
Consequently he failed to hear the shot, and when he came up on deck the victims of the affray had been collected and taken thence, a seaman with a mop had removed the profuse evidence which Mike Murphy's rich red blood had furnished and Mr. Schultz, the first mate, was on the bridge, while Mr. Henckel was up on the forecastle head with his gang, waiting for the order to break out the anchor.
"Just to show you what faith he had in his glorious star, and, also, what sanction he had for that faith. He was a youngster at the time I had just met him when he went into a poker game at Wailuku. There was a big German in it, Schultz his name was, and he played a brutal, domineering game.
The Reverend Gottlieb Schultz was far more intellectual and cultivated than the average of his class. Sent to labour in the Lord's Vineyard in reclaiming the heathen of South Africa, immediately after his ordination as a minister of the German Evangelical Church, at the age of twenty-four, he had spent thirty-five years at his task.
"Upon recovering consciousness," the supercargo replied with some embarrassment, "I was overcome with fury. You were lying on the floor of your stateroom, where Mr. Schultz and Mr. Henckel had hurriedly tossed you so I came in and kicked you." "I never kicked you in the face," Murphy complained. "No, but you flattened my nose with your code book."
She was singing now; she had sprung to her feet with the spear in her hand, and the music poured from her throat. It was not the voice of Schultz; it was richer and fuller, and the tones were deep and strong, and pure and high; and it rang out and filled the empty stage like a clarion trumpet, silver-toned. She held her hands high above her head, waving the spear; coming nearer to him and nearer.
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