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Updated: August 22, 2024
Mary parted from Miss Hemingway with a new idea in her head, an idea that sometime or other she meant to put into practice. On Thursday afternoon she called upon Mr. Green. That gentleman, having had his opportunity to think, was ready with a proposition.
"As far as the incident of the scarf-pin goes I am willing to admit that your explanation is just as likely to be good as is any other." "Prescott, what did you do with the other pin and the watch?" shot in Policeman Hemingway, suddenly and compellingly. It was well done. Had Dick been actually guilty, he might either have betrayed himself, or gone to stammering.
Here, in a mimic harbor formed by a sharp turn of the shore and a line of piles on which the pier was supported, rode the Hemingway fleet at its moorings: a big half-decked catboat, a gasoline launch, an Indian canoe and two trim gigs.
"Then you stay right where you are for two or three minutes," Dick begged his reporter friend. "Officer Hemingway and some others are coming down to see you. You'll want to save three or four columns, I guess." "Oh, now, see here, Dick " came Reporter Spencer's voice, in expostulation. "Straight goods," Dick assured him. "When I say that I mean it. And, this time, I not only mean it, but know it.
W.B. Hemingway, the well-known social leader and club president of Yonkers, who is an old friend of mine; and Mrs. W.B. writes that dear Julia is giving her life to the cause I forget what cause it was right then and how would it be for me to have her up here on the ranch for a vacation, where she could recover her spirits and be once more fitted to enter the arena.
Instead of going to see her, he had gone riding with Maud Hemingway, who lived near his uncle's, in an old Colonial house which had belonged to her great-grandfather. The girl was a good comrade, so good a comrade that she shunted, as it were, love with flings of ready speech and friendly greeting, and tennis-rackets and riding-whips and foils.
"A slice out of one of your cases, I guess, Hemingway, from what I've heard," laughed Connors. "According to these boys, Tip is the fellow who knows the inside game of the High School thefts." "Let's have Scammon in the back room, then," urged Hemingway, leading the way to the guard room. The sergeant, also, followed, after summoning a reserve policeman to the desk.
"Addie Hemingway says he is a handsome young man. He has been a professor in some college, but his mother lives with him, and the climate didn't agree with her, and so he had resigned and was out of a position, and they have sent right away for him, and he is coming. In fact, Addie says she thinks he has come, and that he and his mother are at Mrs.
I put them off. I wasn't sure." "You've been protecting them," said Hemingway. "I wasn't sure," reiterated Harris. "And if I were, the Pinkertons can do their own sleuthing. The man's living honestly now, anyway, isn't he?" he demanded; "and she loves him. At least she's stuck by him. Why should I punish her?" His tone seemed to challenge and upbraid.
The few who really did notice merely wondered why Dick Prescott was not on his way to the Tottenville gridiron today. When Hemingway and his prisoner reached the court room there were only two or three loungers there, for it was still some minutes before the time for the assembling of the court. Presently Bert Dodge and his friend, Bayliss, dropped in.
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