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There was something uncanny in this self-control, this sang froid with which he was wont to sit at boards waiting unmoved for the time when he should draw his net about his enemies, and strangle them without pity. It got on Langmaid's nerves hardened as he was to it.
Plimpton had departed, and he stood in the window and gazed across at the flag on the roof of 'Ferguson's. "It would serve me right for meddling in this parson business. Why did I take him away from Jerry Whitely, anyhow?" It added to Nelson Langmaid's discomfort that he had a genuine affection, even an admiration for the parson in question.
The clergyman had contrived to step out of his, Langmaid's, experience: had actually set him who all his life had known no difficulty in dealing with men to groping for a medium of communication . . . . Hodder sat down on the other side of the fireplace. He, too, seemed to be striving for a common footing. "It was a question of proclaiming the truth when at last I came to see it, Langmaid.
The financier felt this, though it could not be said that Hodder appeared more at his ease: his previous silences had been by no means awkward. Eldon Parr liked self-contained men. But his perceptions were as keen as Nelson Langmaid's, and like Langmaid, he had gradually become conscious of a certain baffling personality in the new rector of St. John's.
The wind had whistled for a time, but it turned out to be only a squall. The Consolidated Tractions Company had made the voyage for which she had been constructed, and thus had fulfilled her usefulness; and the cleverest of the rats who had mistaken her for a permanent home scurried ashore before she was broken up. All of which is merely in the nature of a commentary on Mr. Langmaid's genius.
"Well Hodder didn't give you any intimation as to what he intended to do about that sort of thing, did he?" "What sort of thing?" "About the inside of Eldon Parr's cup, so to speak. And the inside of Wallis Plimpton's cup, and Everett Constable's cup, and Ferguson's cup, and Langmaid's. Did it ever strike you that, in St.
The clergyman had contrived to step out of his, Langmaid's, experience: had actually set him who all his life had known no difficulty in dealing with men to groping for a medium of communication . . . . Hodder sat down on the other side of the fireplace. He, too, seemed to be striving for a common footing. "It was a question of proclaiming the truth when at last I came to see it, Langmaid.
Langmaid's a vestryman, you know, and they've only got him there because he's the best corporation lawyer in the city. He isn't exactly what you'd call orthodox. He never goes." "We are indebted to Mr. Langmaid for Mr. Hodder." This was one of Mr. Waring's rare remarks. Eleanor Goodrich caught her husband's eye, and smiled.
"I am," announced Wallis Plimpton, with his hands in his pockets, "provided the right man tackles him." Nelson Langmaid's most notable achievement, before he accomplished the greater one of getting a new rector for St. John's, had been to construct the "water-tight box" whereby the Consolidated Tractions Company had become a law-proof possibility.
By no means a negligible element in Nelson Langmaid's professional success had been his possession of what may called a sixth sense, and more than once, on his missions of trust, he had listened to its admonitory promptings.
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