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Updated: June 9, 2025
Ryder, and, if you will pardon me, I don't think you quite understand him. Do you realize that there is a man's life at stake that Judge Rossmore is almost at the point of death and that favourable news from the Senate to-morrow is perhaps the only thing that can save him?" "Ah, I see," sneered Ryder, Sr. "Judge Stott's story has aroused your sympathy." "Yes, I I confess my sympathy is aroused.
I jumped to the conclusion that this was the child I had seen in the train, the son of Ginger Stott. As we slowed down to the ascent of the long hill, I said to Bates: "Is that Stott's boy?" Bates looked at me curiously. "Why, no," he said. "Them's the 'Arrisons. 'Arrison's dead now; he was a wrong 'un, couldn't make a job of it, nohow.
The hero stopped long enough to offer it for Mr. Stott's closer inspection. Taken somewhat aback, Mr. Stott said feebly: "Very nice, indeed er " "Mr. Hicks, at your service!" the cook supplemented, bowing formally. "Hicks," Mr. Stott added. "Just take a second longer and say 'Mister." The cook eyed him in such a fashion as he administered the reprimand for his familiarity that Mr.
Longer than she had known any of these here about her she had known poor Jim. He had saved her life, or she believed so, in her childhood that now seemed far away. But for Jim, the poorhouse boy, she had never escaped from Mrs. Stott's truck-farm when she had been kidnapped and hidden there.
She had been brave until now, she had been strong to hear everything and see everything, but she could not keep it up forever. Stott's words to her on the dock had in part prepared her for the worst, he had told her what to expect at home, but the realization was so much more vivid.
I decided that I must certainly go and see Stott's queer son, the phenomenon who had, they say, read all the books in Mr. Challis's library. I wondered what sort of a library this Challis had, and who he was. I had never heard of him before. I think I must have gone to sleep for a time. When Mrs.
"I've 'ad enough," was his new phrase, and he added another that gave evidence of a new attitude. "Why not?" he said again and again. "And why not?" Stott's mind was not analytical. He did not examine his problem, weigh this and that and draw a balanced deduction. Stott's ambition to have a son and to teach him the mysteries of his father's success had been dwindling for some time past.
Curiously enough, they took the place of the old champions, Gloucestershire, who, with Somerset, fell back into the obscurity of the second-class that season. I must turn aside for a moment at this point in order to explain the "new theory" of Stott's, to which I have referred, a theory which became in practice one of the elements of his most astounding successes. Ginger Stott was not a tall man.
The nurse, a capable, but sentimental woman, turned to the window and looked out at the watery trickle of feeble sunlight that now illumined the wilderness of Stott's garden. "Nurse!" The imperative call startled her; she turned nervously. "Yes, doctor?" she said, making no movement towards him. "Come here!" O'Connell was kneeling by the sofa.
The regular court hours, however, soon palled on a man of Judge Stott's nervous temperament and it was not long before he retired to take up once more his criminal practice. He was still a young man, not yet fifty, and full of vigor and fight. He had a blunt manner but his heart was in the right place, and he had a record as clean as his close shaven face.
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