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One feature of the case he instantly perceived; he was released from any obligation to keep silent regarding the old man's declaration. Fortunate was he to have obtained it before Vorse had got wind of his purpose. At the thought of Vorse he arose and locked both front and back doors of the building, pulled down the window shades and turned out the light. It was almost dark by now.
But events have since clarified the story in a manner which proves Miss Vorse to have been curiously prophetic. In substance it is very different from what we have come to associate with her work, but I think that its modern social significance will now be obvious to any reader. Philosophy aside, I commend it as an admirably woven story.
Senator Gordon moistened his lips and tugged nervously at his gray mustache. "No, no," he exclaimed. "Just ask Vorse. The man said his name was Weir and that he was the son of Joe Weir. Then then " "Well?" Sorenson demanded, frowning at the other's visible trepidation. "Weir added, 'And I know what happened thirty years ago in this selfsame room. Those were his very words.
Vorse, clothed in gray, was hawk-nosed and impassive; and though now, like his companions, wealthy beyond simple needs he nevertheless continued the operation of his saloon that had been a landmark in San Mateo for forty years.
"That's right, Sorenson," Burkhardt affirmed, his scowling face visibly clearing. "Ed went away somewhere this evening, that's the only drawback to your scheme. Said something about Bowenville and catching the night train to Santa Fé, and that he might be gone maybe a couple of days and maybe a week." "Hell!" Burkhardt exploded, in consternation. Vorse however remained cool.
The two circumstances coming at the same moment, the free drunk and my arrest, look fishy to me. What do you think? I'm in charge of a property here representing a good deal of money and I should hate to be absent if the men took the idea into their heads to turn the camp upside down, especially if the idea was inspired by Vorse and his friends."
It made me almost hate the face and form, the color, the hair, that they dared to call Titianesque, speak of as if it were the free booty of pigment and canvas, and wish to drag captive in the golden chains of their wealth. When I had met Colonel Vorse, a year ago, twice my age though he was, he was the first one I had wished as poor as I he the plebeian newly rich.
As examining records is a part of a lawyer's regular work, it never excites curiosity or arouses suspicion. That same evening Martinez perceived Vorse enter Sorenson's office. Vorse, he recalled, had been included in the engineer's threatening remarks to Gordon. Shortly thereafter Gordon himself ambled along the street and passed through the door.
Madden following him had allowed the slatted door to swing shut again and the sound of its hinges caused Vorse, who was just starting away from the bar, to turn about. In his hand was a tray holding a bottle of whiskey, a bottle of mineral water and glasses, which apparently he had just lifted up.
Otherwise, prince or peasant, each is a man, whether he wears a blouse or a star and garter; and if man was made in the image of God, let us do no indignity to that image in one or in another." Did I understand him? Was Colonel Vorse proclaiming himself the equal of Prince San Sorcererino who had entertained us in his palaces last year? Well. And was he not?
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