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"The theater of the absurd often portrays situations that are absolutely trivial. It can therefore also be called a kind of 'hyperrealism.' People abitcoin sv kursre portrayed precisely as they are. But if you reproduce on stage exactly what goes on in the bathroom on a perfectly ordinary morning in a perfectly ordinary home, the audience would laugh. Their laughter could be interpreted as a defense mechanism against seeing themselves lampooned on stage."

For that, the sole requiremenbitcoin kaufen finanzflusst would be a lawyer equallyunscrupulous and astute. At once, Mary's mind was made up.After all, the thing was absurdly simple. It was merely a matterfor ingenuity and for prudence in alliance.... Moreover, therewould come eventually some adequate device against herarch-enemy, Edward Gilder.

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Mary meditated on the idea for many days, and ever it seemedincreasingly good to her. Finally, it developed to a point whereshe believed it altogether feasible, and then she took Joe Garsoninto her confidence. He was vastly astonished at the outset andnot quite pleased. To his view, this plan offered merely afashion of setting difficulties in the way of achievement.Presently, however, the sincerity and persistence of the girl wonhim over. The task of convincing him would have been easier hadhe himself ever known the torment of serving a term in prison.Thus far, however, the forger had always escaped the penalty forhis crimes, though often close to conviction. But Mary'sarguments were of a compelling sort as she set them forth indetail, and they made their appeal to Garson, who was by no meanslacking in a shrewd native intelligence. He agreed that theexperiment should be made, notwithstanding the fact that he feltno particular enthusiasm over the proposed scheme of working. Itis likely that his own strong feeling of attraction toward thegirl whom he had saved from death, who now appeared before him asa radiantly beautiful young woman, was more persuasive than theexcellent ideas which she presented so emphatically, and with alogic so impressive.An agreement was made by which Joe Garson and certain of his moretrusted intimates in the underworld were to put themselves underthe orders of Mary concerning the sphere of their activities.Furthermore, they bound themselves not to engage in any deviousbusiness without her consent. Aggie, too, was one of the companythus constituted, but she figured little in the preliminarydiscussions, since neither Mary nor the forger had much respectfor the intellectual capabilities of the adventuress, though theyappreciated to the full her remarkable powers of influencing mento her will.

It was not difficult to find a lawyer suited to the necessitiesof the undertaking. Mary bore in mind constantly the highfinancier's reliance on the legal adviser competent to invent amethod whereby to baffle the law at any desired point, and afterjudicious investigation she selected an ambitious and experiencedJew named Sigismund Harris, just in the prime of his mentalvigors, who possessed a knowledge of the law only to be equalledby his disrespect for it. He seemed, indeed, precisely the manto fit the situation for one desirous of outraging the lawremorselessly, while still retaining a place absolutely withinit.Forthwith, the scheme was set in operation. As a first step,Mary Turner became a young lady of independent fortune, who hadliving with her a cousin, Miss Agnes Lynch. The flat wasabandoned. In its stead was an apartment in the nineties onRiverside Drive, in which the ladies lived alone with two maidsto serve them. Garson had rooms in the neighborhood, but JimLynch, who persistently refused the conditions of such analliance, betook himself afar, to continue his reckless gatheringof other folk's money in such wise as to make him amenable to thelaw the very first time he should be caught at it.Apart from these occasional activities, for which he was promptly and liberally paid, his only services to the gang were in the initial stages of the distribution of the evil merchandise in which they dealt, and, for this brief and occasional purpose, his precautions against discovery included the disguising of the car which he openly and legitimately used, by the substitution of a number-plate which would identify it as belonging to another owner.

He was one of the five living persons (if we exclude the suspicions of the police) who could have identified Professor Blinkwell as the head of the gang to which they belonged, and he knew enough of the methods which were in use to be surprised, and somewhat perturbed when he received instructions to collect the valise from Mrs. Collinson's house. He knew that something must have gone wrong of sufficient seriousness to upset the basic rules of their organization.It was not usual for him to make such collections himself, but, though not of a reliable courage, he had the temperament which, when alarmed, becomes impatient to force the event. He told Burfoot, the car driver and usual agent for such occasions, that he would go with him. He told himself that this would avert the necessity of giving Burfoot Mrs. Collinson's name.He found the case waiting for him in that lady's hall, and received it from Becky's hands without ceremony or delay. It was of an expected weight, and it was not until he had settled down in the car, with it in the seat behind him, that he noticed that it was not of the pattern or quality which it was customary to use for these highly valuable and secret consignments.He observed this first with curiosity rather than suspicion He had already accepted the idea that something unusual had happened. Doubtless this had involved the use of a makeshift receptacle. It would be part of the plan by which Professor Blinkwell's inexhaustible ingenuity had baffled investigation, as it had done so often before.

But then his attention became fixed upon the fastening of the case. It looked a wretched lock. A mere pretence, such as will be fitted to the cheaper suitcases, and that can be opened by almost any key of approximately the right size."It's ten to one," he thought, "that I could do it from my own bunch." His next thought was that it would be fortunate if he could, for it was evident that the key he held for the valise which should have come would not avail. It would be too large.

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&nbs`; ? ? ? The same disposition which had led him to make the journey himself now impelled to test the lock without waiting to reach the privacy of his own room. After all, he was alone in the car, except for Burfoot, sitting in front, and Burfoot was the man to whom the distribution would be entrusted. He drew out his bunch of keys, readily found one which would open the case, and would have done nothing to inspect its contents beyond the casual glance which he gave through the two-inch opening which followed the yielding of lock, had he not been astonished by that which the gap revealed.With an exclamation, "What the devil's this?" he pulled the case wide open. Burfoot looked round sharply, hearing apprehension in his voice. He saw his master handling a large fragment of stone, which he held lifted half out of the case."Burfoot," Snacklit said, "there's some funny business here. It looks like some kind of a trap to me. . . . We're not being followed, are we? I'm inclined to get rid of this over the Low Level Bridge.""Followed? I'm not that sure. There's a taxi hanging on behind."

"Then double back at Sistern road. That ought to make sure.""Right you are, sir."Burfoot turned the car at a left-hand street, and then turned left again, so that he was returning the way he came. After the second turn, he slowed down, so that, when Irene's taxi followed him, he was only a short distance ahead."So that's it?" Snacklit said. I'll have a word with them and find out who they are, and what they think they're doing. You'd better draw up to the kerb, and if they stop, and you see me get in, just go ahead as before."

"To Snacklit House, sir?""Yes. You'll be all right if we don't follow, and all right if we do."

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"What about Low Level Bridge, sir?""Not with them looking on. Give it a miss."

He got out, and walked back to the taxi, which had also drawn up at the pavement a short distance behind.He did not know what he should find - it might have been an escort sent by Professor Blinkwell for his protection - but he was surprised when he saw only a taxi-driver of rather dull aspect in front, and a young, well-dressed, and attractive girl in the rear of the vehicleAnyone less likely than she - unless it were a baby in arms to be representing the law in pursuit of their powerful and dangerous gang would not be easy to imagine. Neither did the driver appear to be such a one as the police would have been likely to select for such a task. He thought it probable that Burfoot had made a mistake, which modified his manner, though it did not change his purpose to probe what the truth might be. He looked at the driver as he asked, "What's the game you're playing with us?"The man, who, unlike most of his kind, was not quick at retort, did not reply. He looked round at Irene, as though implying that the question should be addressed to her.Irene looked at a man whom she felt no occasion to fear. He was small, rather skinny in build, bald, thin-faced, with colourless eyebrows above very pale blue eyes. She looked at him closely thinking that her mission had already become more than half a success by his own act. She would be able to identify him anywhere now. And his clothes. He was well enough dressed, but that did not make him look like a gentleman. Nothing could.Baffled by the driver's silence, he transferred his attention to her. He opened the door, and leaned in as he asked his previous question in a rather different form, "Perhaps you'll be good enough to say why you're following me?"

She smiled as she gave a flippantly evasive answer, "It must have been because you were in front."He looked at her uncertainly, showing no appreciation of the humour of this reply. He said, "I shall need a better explanation than that."

She saw that it was useless to attempt concealment of the fact that she had been following him. After that backward turn! She said boldly, "We thought you'd got the wrong case."He stared at her in mingled fear and bewilderment. "What made you think that?"

"Because the labels had got a bit mixed.""And who are you?"

"I brought the case over for Mr. Kindell."His next question was checked unspoken. Could he ask more without giving himself away to this dubious stranger? He said, "Well, you shall have your way." He went back to the front door, and got in beside the driver. As he did so, the car in front began to move ahead. He said to the driver: "You can go on following it. We don't mind."Irene observed his action with excitement rather than apprehension. She was certainly succeeding in what Will had relied on her to do, though no one could have foreseen what was happening now. She was in a civilized city, on the side of the law, and in her own hired taxi. And the man who had got in did not appear to be a formidable kind. But she had become cautious. She decided that she would not go far in pursuit of the light grey car without having something more to say.They had returned to their previous direction by now, the grey car leading, but at a moderate pace; certainly making no attempt to get away. The intruder sat silently beside her own driver. He had become doubtful both of the wisdom of what he had done, and of what he should do next. But what other course, he asked himself, could he have taken? A wild attempt to outdistance pursuit, perhaps ending in an accident, or the intervention of the police, with those false number-plates on his car? No, it was far more prudent to take control of this young woman till he had ascertained who she was, and what peril might threaten from her. But he saw himself suddenly involved in a whirlpool of danger he did not like, and he had become correspondingly dangerous himself, in the manner of a mean, frightened, and ruthless man.

Irene, watching the route, and making mental notes of the streets they passed, had not long to debate what she should do next, for the grey car slackened speed, and turned into a wide gateway entrance, at the side of a substantial edifice, the front of which was crossed by a large sign:SNACKLIT HOME AND HOSPITAL FOR DOMESTIC PETS

Irene spoke to the driver quickly: "Don't go in there. I've come as far as I need now."The man slackened speed, and, as he did so, he saw a pistol in the hand of the intruder beside him. "You'll have to go on now," Snacklit said, in a voice that trembled with excitement, pushing the gun into the driver's ribs.

"Don't take any notice of him," Irene urged. "I don't suppose it's loaded, and he wouldn't dare to shoot if it were. Everyone knows you get hanged in this country if you do that. It's my taxi, not his.""Yes, lady. But it's my life," the man answered. "I didn't bargain for this." His hands trembled on the wheel, so that the car wobbled perilously as it turned into the gateway.

Seeing that it was useless to continue protesting over that which had already occurred, she became silent, but she was intently observant now of a position which she no longer liked. She was conscious of the effort of will which was required to hold down a rising fear.Snacklit got out of the car. "I can see," he said, "that you are a wise man. You'd better come with me, and talk this over."The man stopped his clock. He said, "I'd like to know who's going to pay my fare.""You can't expect me to do that," Irene said. "I didn't ask you to bring me here. If you take me back where - - "

"There's no hurry about that," Snacklit interposed. "But as to the fare, you'll both come with me, and we'll talk about that too."The man appeared to be reassured by this statement, which may have seemed to him to bring the incident back to a more normal level. He got out, and Irene, seeing no advantage in sitting longer in a vehicle which there was no one to drive, did the same.

As she did this, she saw that the wide gates were already dosed. A yardman was dropping bars into their slots, while Burfoot was turning a heavy key. She disliked that, but still the taxi and its driver were with her. There was a measure of reassurance in that, which would have been more had the man been of a different sort.Snacklit went back to the gate to give some instructions to Burfoot, which were beyond her hearing. The driver said: "I hope you know what you're doing, miss. But I wish I was out of here."

"I rather wish I were too," Irene admitted. "But you've no need to worry. Scotland Yard knows what I was doing. They'll see you right. It's that man who ought to be feeling sick."Perhaps he should. But he gave no sign of such inward emotions as he walked back to where they were standing. He seemed to have gained confidence since he had reached his own premises, and closed his gates on the outer world.

Both Sides of the Table

Perspectives of a 2x entrepreneur turned VC at @UpfrontVC#

Mark Suster

Written by

2x entrepreneur. Sold both companies (last to salesforce.com). Turned VC looking to invest in passionate entrepreneurs 〞 I*m on Twitter at @msuster

Both Sides of the Table

Perspectives of a 2x entrepreneur turned VC at @UpfrontVC, the largest and most active early-stage fund in Southern California. Snapchat: msuster

Mark Suster

Written by

2x entrepreneur. Sold both companies (last to salesforce.com). Turned VC looking to invest in passionate entrepreneurs 〞 I*m on Twitter at @msuster

Both Sides of the Table

Perspectives of a 2x entrepreneur turned VC at @UpfrontVC, the largest and most active early-stage fund in Southern California. Snapchat: msuster