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Updated: June 27, 2025
He wore his green silk tie through a topaz ring; and he carried a cane made of the vertebræ of a shark. Judson Tate accosted me with some large and casual inquiries about the city's streets and hotels, in the manner of one who had but for the moment forgotten the trifling details. There was something on Judson Tate's mind, and, such as it was, he tried to convey it to me.
Tate's maid put her head inside. "Mis' Pryor," she said, and her eyes seemed all whites, "somebody at the telephone say for you to come on home' that Mr. Pryor done took sick on the street and they've brung him in. Miss Lizzie Bettie say to come on quick." Every woman turned in her seat. From some came exclamations of frightened sympathy.
We well remember, under an attack of disorder in the neighbourhood of the brain, causing severe suffering, lying we know not how long, it might be a thousand years for any thing we knew singing over and over again in our mind, for we were speechless with pain, the 148th psalm, which we had just chanced to hear sung, in Brady and Tate's version, to a new and somewhat peculiar tune.
"Not if we seal the set here." Trigger nodded. "You'll do the talking," she said. "I'll give you Commissioner Tate's personal number. Tell them to dial it. The Precol transmitters pick up ComWeb circuits. Switch on the screen after the call is in; he'll want to see me. When he comes on, just tell him what's happened, where we are, what the layout is. He's to come over with a squad to get us.
I was barely finished, but Tate's son got the bars put on all right, and I was handed over to the tender mercies of my new master. He was quite delighted with my appearance, and looked with pride, and even satisfaction, on my well-polished uppers and wrapper soles. There was even a half-'un going at the paying.
That little quibble was soon overruled. But there were often cases which were by no means so easily disposed of. Robert Bokenham was lord of the manor of Tibenham, and Robert Tate was one of his tenants. Tate died; then Bokenham died. Bokenham's son was only nine years old, and no guardian had been appointed when Tate's son died.
"What'll you have now, Filmer?" he asked, "maybe plain water?" Jock's eyes grew glassy. "No," he muttered; "make it another soda, Tate. Yes; I've got a job. Such a thundering big one that it's going to take about all the nerve I've got lying around loose." "Bossing maybe?" Tate cast a keen glance upon Filmer. Jock returned the look. The gleam had departed from his eyes he was Tate's master now.
I was a member of the then famous 'Liverpool Hunt, and when I got to the Meet somebody said, 'Why, Williamson, how smart you are! 'Smart, said I, 'aye! a man should look smart on his wedding day! 'Wedding day, exclaimed some of the fellows, 'Who have you married? 'I haven't married anybody, I said, 'but the parson has married me to old Tate's daughter! 'Why, where's your wife? 'She's at home, to be sure, where all good wives ought to be getting ready her husband's dinner. I'll tell you what, Betty and I lived but a cat and dog life of it, but I was sorry to part with the old girl when she did go."
"Mr Tate doesn't ask my pleasure in his coming and going any more than the King asks Mr Tate's in his." "It would do you no good, sir, to have it known that he was here," Darrell reminded me with a significant nod of his head. Darrell had been a good friend to me and had won my regard, but, from an infirmity of temper that I have touched on before, his present tone set me against him.
"So that's how you've been spendin' the money of this town writin' to folks that you knew wouldn't come, so as to get their autographs?" He touched the point better than he realized. Poet Tate's face grew paler.
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