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Updated: June 21, 2025
A further outburst of the French language from Mr. Crump, supplemented on the part of the "old gink" by gesticulations, interrupted the proceedings. "What's he saying now?" asked Mr. Scobell. "He wants to know " "Don't tell. Let me guess. He wants to know what sort of a rake-off he and the other somnambulists will get the darned old pirate! Is that it?" Mr. Crump said that that was just it.
Jarvis, who, since the readings from the Kid's reminiscences had ceased, had lost interest in the proceedings, and was now entertaining the cats with a ball of paper tied to a string. "Thought that Mr. Scobell ?" repeated Mr. Renshaw. "Who is, if he is not?" "I am," said John. There was a moment's absolute silence. "You!" cried Mr. Renshaw. "You!" exclaimed Mr. Waterman, Mr.
You might have added that I was nothing more than a steerer for a gambling hell." "Oh, come, Prince!" There was a knock at the door. A footman entered, bearing, with a detached air, as if he disclaimed all responsibility, a letter on a silver tray. Mr. Scobell slit the envelope, and began to read.
It was a colossal venture, but it suffered from the defect from which most big things suffer; it moved slowly. That it also moved steadily was to some extent a consolation to Mr. Scobell. Undoubtedly it would progress quicker and quicker, as time went on, until at length the Casino became a permanent gold mine. But at present it was being conducted at a loss. It was inevitable, but it irked Mr.
You can count me in all right." "Good boy," said Mr. Scobell. "And now you'll be wanting to get to the Palace. I'll have them bring the automobile round." The council of state broke up. Having seen John off in the car, the financier proceeded to his sister's sitting-room.
"He's sitting at the other side of the room, directly behind you. Count ten!" But Betty had twisted round in her chair. "Where? Where?" "Just where you're looking. Don't let him see you." "I don't Oh!" "Got him?" He leaned back in his chair. "The plot thickens, eh?" he said. "What is Mr. Scobell doing in New York, I wonder, if he has not come to keep an eye on his interests?"
"He bit my head off, my dear," murmured Miss Scobell, knitting placidly. "You're thinking that Mervo is an ordinary state, and that the Prince is one of those independent, all-wool, off-with-his-darned-head rulers like you read about in the best sellers. Well, you've got another guess coming. If you want to know who's the big noise here, it's me me! This Prince guy is my hired man. See?
"Did you ever read the Sherlock Holmes story entitled 'The Five Orange Pips'? Well, when a man in that story received a mysterious envelope containing five orange pips, it was a sign that he was due to get his. It was all over, as far as he was concerned, except 'phoning for the undertaker. I propose to treat Mr. Scobell better than that. He shall have a whole lemon." The waiter returned.
It was shown that William B. Leonard, of New Orleans, had contracted with Major H.J. Scobell, representing the British Government, for the purchase of mules to be shipped to South Africa for military purposes.
Scobell, slightly mollified, "and Betty shouldn't oughter have handed it to you. I don't wonder you feel raw. I wouldn't say that sort of thing to a guy's face. Sure, no. Tact's my middle name. But, since you have heard it, well !" "Don't apologize. You were quite right. I was a fool not to see it before. No description could have been fairer. You might have said much more.
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