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Updated: June 10, 2025


The table presented specimens of all the familiar characters of boarding-house life. There was the lawyer, sharp, observant, talkative, ready for a joke or an argument. There was the solemn man of business, who ate from a sense of duty, and scowled at the lawyer's bad puns. Near him, with an absurdly youthful wig and opaque goggles, sat the Unknown; his name, occupation, resources, and tastes alike a profound mystery. Several dapper clerks, whose right ears drooped from having been used as pen-racks, wearing stunning cravats, outré brooches and shirt-studs, learned in the lore of "two-forty" driving, were ranged opposite. Then there was the jolly widow, who was the admiration of men of her own age, but who cruelly gave all her smiles to the boys with newly-sprouting chins. Near her sat the fastidious man, whose nostrils curled ominously when any stain appeared on his napkin, or when anything sullied the virgin purity of his own exclusive fork. His spectacles seemed to serve as microscopes, made for the sole purpose of detecting some fatal speck invisible to other eyes. There was the singer, with a neck like a swan's, bowing with the gracious air that is acquired in the acknowledgment of bouquets and bravas. The artist was her vis-

"Take the piebalds," said he, "if you'd like to have a drive, and take some nice girl Miss Ethel or Bijou Brown for a two-forty shine." "Thanks awfully," said Mr. Ramsay. "But I think I had better that is, I had rather ask Heathcote." "You are horribly welcome, but I don't think much of your taste," replied Mr. Ketchum, not understanding what a proposition he had made.

He went to the telephone and presently reported: "There's a train at two-forty. Can you make it by then?" She looked at the clock on the mantel. "We'll make it," she said. He was getting into his coat. "I'll go on to the club, get my things together, and come back for you at two-fifteen, then." He rushed away, both of them almost forgetting to say good-by, and she went into her bedroom to pack.

"She said, No, as short as pie-crust; and when he rushed out with his heart broken all to bits apparently, she just burst out laughing, and went and polked at a two-forty pace for half an hour." Error! Hyperlink reference not valid. unclasped her hands, took a long breath, and cried out,

The madness was spreading beyond the confines of enclosing walls. Mary Burton turned, heavy-hearted, back to the room's interior and her glance fell on the clock. It recorded two-forty. She wondered when Edwardes would return.

At exactly three the second shot will be fired -the starting signal. Has either captain any questions to ask?" Neither captain had any questions. "Let me know, time-keeper, when it is two-forty," said the referee, going toward the door. "Both captains will be on the alert to avoid delays." As the referee glanced out he saw that at least four hundred spectators were on hand.

How could he with Jock and Hurry piled in his lap, and both talking two-forty, and Lucy at his side, trying to make herself heard and even understood? No man could. It must have been shortly after he got home, at that moment, indeed, when he was alone with her, and his arms went out to her with all the love and yearning accumulated at compound interest during absence.

"Roast beef, two-forty?" he presently read aloud, questioningly. "Twenty-two cents a pound," his wife answered simply. But the man's slight frown deepened. "Too much too much!" he said, shaking his head. Mrs. Salisbury let him read on a moment, turn a page or two. Then she said, in a dead calm: "Do you think my roasts are too big, Kane?" "Too big?

It is twenty minutes of eight by the local clock in the cable office. The clock indicating New York time registers two-forty P.M. A glance at the Bank of France notes decides the question in the operator's mind. He takes the money and transmits the message. Nevins returns to his room to await the developments of the thirteenth of October. In Freedom's Name. The crisis has arrived.

"I was, I was," he muttered sadly, and I caught the whiff of whiskey strong on the air. I stole a look at his gnarled hands. Any finger would have made three of mine. His wrist would have made three of my wrist. "How much do you weigh?" I asked. "Two hundred an' ten. But in my day, at my best, I tipped the scales close to two-forty."

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