Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 21, 2025
"It'll bring a few," Conboy allowed, "not many, and all of them big eaters. You don't make anything off of a man that rides thirty or forty miles before breakfast when you sit him down to a twenty-five cent meal." Morgan said he was not a hotel man, but it seemed pretty plain even to him that there could be no wide border of profit in any such transaction.
Deolda got up and began padding up and down the floor, back and forth, like a soul in torment. About ten o'clock old Conboy came in. "I got the license, Deolda," he said. "All right," said Deolda, "all right go away." And she kept on padding up and down the room like a leopard in a cage. Conboy beckoned my aunt out into the entry. I followed. "What ails her?" he asked.
"It is a little quiet, but they all say it will begin to pick up in a day or two," Morgan prevaricated, with a view to reeling him out, having no other diversion. "I don't know what it's goin' to pick up on," Conboy sighed. "Two for breakfast outside of the regulars. I used to have twenty to thirty-five up to a week ago." "Court will convene next month," Morgan reminded him by way of cheer.
"I'll call her," I said. But Deolda wasn't anywhere; not a sign of her. She'd vanished. Conboy and Aunt Josephine looked at each other. "She's gone to him," said Conboy. My aunt leaned toward him and whispered, "What do you think?" "Hush!" said Conboy, sternly. "Don't think, Josephine! Don't speak. Don't even dream! Don't let your mind stray.
He came to that conclusion with Morgan's evasion of his direct question. The interests of Peden and his kind were Conboy's interests. He stood like a housemaid with dustpan and broom to gather up the wreckage of the night. "When can I get breakfast?" Morgan inquired, turning suddenly, catching Conboy with his new resolution in his shifty, flickering eyes, reading him to the marrow of his bones.
"Are you goin' to stay in the office a while now, Tommy, and look after things while Dora and I do the work?" the woman asked. "I've got to get the jury together for the inquest," Conboy returned, with the briskness of a man of importance. "Will I be wanted to give my testimony at the inquest, do you suppose?" Morgan inquired. "I was here when it happened; I saw the whole thing."
"They're friends of the city marshal; he belonged to the same outfit," Conboy explained, ostensibly setting down figures in his book. "Thank you," said Morgan, starting for the door. "Where you goin' to?" Conboy demanded, forgetting caution and possible complications in his haste to interpose. "To find out what they want."
Tom Conboy told me the judge had telegraphed to the governor asking him to send soldiers to restore law and order in the town." "Law and order!" Stilwell scorned. "All the law and order they ever had in that hell-hole a man'd never miss." "Where's the sheriff what's he doing to restore order?" Morgan inquired. "The sheriff ain't doin' nothing.
Conboy got up, gaping in amazement. Morgan had stepped into the light that fell through the open door, passing on his way to bed. The metal shield that proclaimed his office was cupped as if it had been held edgewise on an anvil and struck with a hammer. Morgan hastily detached the badge and put it in his pocket, plainly displeased by the discovery Conboy had made.
Conboy, standing at the edge of the sidewalk before her door, not more than ten yards from the spot where Morgan was making these unaccountable preparations, leaned with a new horror in her fear-haunted eyes to see. "My God! he's goin' to burn them!" she said. "Oh, my God!"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking