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Updated: May 25, 2025
"I didn't know that his name had been mentioned." "I saw his signature," she said simply. Then she added: "He's the father of the girl you don't like, isn't he?" "Yes, he's the " A cloud came over the financier's face; his eyes darkened, his jaws snapped and he clenched his fist. "How you must hate him!" said Shirley, who observed the change.
There was sharp impatience in the financier's biting tone. "Just so. It is the A.B.C. of it." Hellbeam set back in his chair. He clasped his hands across his stomach. "I will tell you," he said, a wicked smile lighting his deep-set eyes, his cheeks rounding themselves in his satisfaction. "His work will stop. His mill is far away.
With infinite patience she studied his whims and watched for the rival she was sure had crossed his life. From the first she had suspected Harriet Woodman, and had inevitably linked her coming with Stuart's change of feeling. He had never referred to the Woodmans once since the day of the financier's collapse.
The financier's undisguised contempt left the agent apparently undisturbed. "That's the simple horse sense of it," Idepski retorted promptly. "I get all that. But you're wrong when you say, Martin's playing any other game than lying low because of one hell of a scare. I know him. You think you know him because you can't get away from judging a man from your end. However, that don't matter a shuck.
A part of every dollar of the millions that would be taken from that treasury by the labor of the people would go to enrich him. The financier's thoughts were interrupted by a sound. He turned to see his horse tugging at the bridle reins, snorting in fear.
But no one knew, and this was the financier's one desperate chance that no one did know, not even Barbara. With his capital exhausted and no resources upon which he could realize, he went ahead with the work apparently with the confidence of one with millions behind him. It was, in the language of the West, all a bluff. But it was a magnificent bluff.
"Your Majesty knows very well what he is," wrote Fuentes: "he is nothing but talk." Before leaving the country he sent a bitter complaint to Ybarra, to the effect that the king had entirely forgotten him, and imploring that financier's influence to procure for him some gratuity from his Majesty. He was in such necessity, he said, that it was no longer possible for him to maintain his household.
"S'pose it would pay," his voice was as grave as a financier's, discussing a huge stock transfer, "to chase all over and miss supper, just to make three cents on eight papers? No, lady, price is a nickel. Always is." He held out his hand. The woman capitulated and went back into the house for the stipulated coin.
He finds it restores and freshens him, after the turmoil of London, to win a few hundreds at roulette in the course of an afternoon among the palms and cactuses and pure breezes of Monte Carlo. The country, say I, for a jaded intellect! However, we never on any account actually stop in the Principality itself. Sir Charles thinks Monte Carlo is not a sound address for a financier's letters.
It seems to me now but a step from the buying of Lady Grove to the beginning of Crest Hill, from the days when the former was a stupendous achievement to the days when it was too small and dark and inconvenient altogether for a great financier's use.
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