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Updated: May 16, 2025
When I told Barbara about this, she rather agreed with Wittekind. It all depended on the matter and quality of the book itself. "Well, anyhow," said I, abhorrent of dissension, "thank Heaven the wretched composition's nearly finished." On the morning of the twenty-third came my cousin Eileen and her offspring, and in the afternoon came Liosha and Mrs. Considine.
He loaned it to Bill Van Nest, an ex-gambler and proprietor of pool rooms, now silent partner in Hoe & Wittekind, brokers, on the New York Stock Exchange, and also in Filbert & Jonas, curb brokers. He loaned it to Van Nest without security.
"From to-morrow onwards, till publication, the press will be flooded with paragraphs about Adrian Boldero's new book. I fixed it up with Wittekind, as a sort of welcome home to you." "That was very kind, Jaffery," said Doria; "but was it necessary? I mean, couldn't Wittekind have done it before?" "It was necessary in a way," said Jaffery. "We wanted you to pass the proofs." Doria smiled proudly.
Not to do so was callous ingratitude and tradesman's niggardliness on the part of Wittekind. Something ought to be done. I confessed my inability to do anything. "I know you have nothing to do with the literary side of the executorship. Jaffery undertook it. And now, instead of looking after his duties, he has gone on this impossible voyage."
She gave us a full account of her interview and appealed to me for explanations of Jaffery's extraordinary conduct. I upbraided myself bitterly for having counselled her to bite Wittekind. I ought, instead, to have thrown every possible obstacle in the way of her meeting him. I ought to have foreseen this question of the manuscripts, the one weak spot in our web of deception.
Adrian Boldero's name is a household word. You want advertisement and an édition de luxe. But it is only the little man that needs the big drum." "But still, Mr. Wittekind," Doria urged, "an édition de luxe would be such a beautiful monument to him.
It was a frightful act of vengeance, which has ever since remained an ineradicable blot on the memory of the great king. Its effect was what might have been anticipated. Instead of filling the Saxons with terror, it inspired them with revengeful fury. They rose as one man, Wittekind and Alboin at their head, and attacked the French with a fury such as they had never before displayed.
The priests were expelled from the country, the churches they had built demolished, the castles erected by the Frank monarch taken and destroyed, and the country was laid waste up to the walls of Cologne, its Christian inhabitants being exterminated. But unyielding as Wittekind was, his great antagonist was equally resolute and persistent.
Chayne has definitely told me that both Adrian's original manuscripts went to the printers and were destroyed by the printers." "It's impossible," said Wittekind, in much perplexity. "You're making some extraordinary mistake." "I'm not. Mr. Chayne would not tell me a lie." Wittekind drew himself up. "Neither would I, Mrs. Boldero. Allow me." He took up his "house" telephone. "Ask Mr.
Wittekind had never seen them. Vandal and Goth and every kind of Barbarian that she considered Jaffery to be, it was inconceivable that he had deliberately destroyed them. It was equally inconceivable that he had sold the precious things for vulgar money. They remained therefore in his possession. Why did he lie?
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