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Updated: June 26, 2025
Even fright could not entirely rob the younger man's features of their sly inquisitiveness. "Mr. Hammon's calling you," said Jim, then blinked at the wretchedly disheveled woman. "Here!" Merkle beckoned him with a jerk of his head. "This girl must get away from here. She'll ruin everything in her condition. Try to put her in some kind of shape while Lorelei packs her bag.
Her good sense argued that she was of too little consequence to warrant such an assault, but her relatives seized the suggestion so avidly as to more than half convince her. Mrs. Knight attributed this injustice first to Bergman, then to Merkle, whom she hated bitterly since her unfortunate attempt at blackmail; Jim was inclined to agree with her.
The terrified manager continued his heartbroken lament, and Hammon seemed about to destroy him when Merkle drew the latter aside, speaking in an undertone. Hammon listened briefly, then broke out: "Nonsense. I'd stake my life on her. Why, she's prostrated. It's either pure blackmail, or it's my wife's work. She's had detectives on me for some time." Merkle murmured something more. "Oh, come now!
"God knows," said Benham, "I don't." "Then will there be any address for forwarding letters, sir?" Benham hadn't thought of that. For a moment he regarded Merkle's scrupulous respect with a transient perplexity. "I'll let you know, Merkle," he said. "I'll let you know."
It's an old trick of mine sort of a joke, see? Give me some money a cabby'll do anything for money at this time o' night." Merkle eyed the speaker in momentary doubt, then handed him a roll of bank-notes. "It's a serious business, Bob, but this is worse, and we've no time to lose Jarvis can't stay here. There's somebody else to consider besides us and Miss Lynn. I'm thinking about Mrs.
Walk down the block; and when you see him come in, give him five minutes." Her voice had become a little breathless, and her colour was high. Mortimer, too, seemed apprehensive. Things had suddenly begun to work themselves out too swiftly. "Do you think that's best?" he faltered, looking about for his hat. "Tell Merkle that nobody has been here, if Quarrier should ask him.
Just why she felt resentful she scarcely knew. Certainly she had no interest in Mr. Merkle, nor suffered the least embarrassment over their exploit. Rather, on this afternoon, she beheld with unusual clarity her present general life, and that of her family, feeling more keenly than usual the utter sordidness of their whole scheme of existence.
In a way I don't blame him for seeking amusement and happiness where he can find it, and yet I'm afraid of the result. This supper means more than you can understand or than I can explain." "The city is full of Samsons, and most of them have their Delilahs." Merkle agreed. "These men put Hammon where he is. I wonder if they will let him stay there. It depends upon that girl yonder."
He's after Merkle, too; so you'll have to stand the gaff this time. I'll look up this chap Wharton to-morrow and find out what sort of a farmer's son he really is." As Jim and his mother breakfasted together on the following morning he broached the subject of his recent conversation with Lorelei. "She's sore about the story," he said. "We had a long talk last night."
The catastrophe had taken but an instant. The three were alone, and their machine disabled almost in a breath. Merkle inquired anxiously if Lorelei were hurt; the chauffeur ran after the offending car, yelling anathemas into the night. He returned slowly, mopping his face, which had been cut by fragments from the shattered windshield. "Joy-riders," he muttered.
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