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Updated: May 28, 2025
And as for the law of the land" Holcombe's voice rose and broke in a mocking laugh "there is no law of the land. That's why you're here! You are in a place populated by exiles and outlaws like yourself, who have preyed upon society until society has turned and frightened each of them off like a dog with his tail between his legs. Don't give yourself confidence, Allen.
If you call, I will let them in, and they will strangle you into silence until I get the money." The two men eyed each other steadily, the older seeming to weigh the possible truth of Holcombe's last words in his mind. Holcombe broke the silence in a lighter tone.
No one had ever called him a good fellow at home, but then his life had not offered him the chance to show what sort of a good fellow he might be, and as Judge Holcombe's son certain things had been debarred him. Here he was only the richest tourist since Farwell, the diamond smuggler from Amsterdam, had touched there in his yacht.
The two men confronted each other across the narrow length of the table. The blood had run to Holcombe's face, but the face of the other was drawn and pale with fear. "You can't frighten me," he gasped, rallying his courage with an effort of the will. "You are talking nonsense. This is a respectable hotel; it isn't a den of thieves.
Upon the departure of Mr. Holcombe south, his business was turned over to C.C. Clay, who after that acted in this capacity. It was during Holcombe's stay in Canada, that the speculative brain of George N. Sanders, first originated the great humbug of the Niagara Falls peace conference, at which there was but one rebel official, and he was not authorized to act in any such capacity.
Holcombe raised his eyes and stared at him steadily. "Mr. Holcombe " the fugitive began. "Yes," replied the lawyer. Meakim shook his head. "Nothing," he said. "Good-night, sir." Holcombe's rooms were on the floor above Carroll's, and the laughter of the latter's guests and the tinkling of glasses and silver came to him as he stepped out upon his balcony. But for this the night was very still.
Somewhere wherever they keep such things was the headless body of a woman with a hand missing, and with a curious scar across the left breast. The slip of paper, however, which I had found behind the base-board, was still in Mr. Holcombe's possession, nor had he mentioned it to the police. Mr. Holcombe had not come back.
Holcombe had his feet on the upper steps of the ladder, and was ascending slowly. There was a fat, heavily built man in blue serge leaning across the railing of the pier. He was looking down, and as his eyes met Holcombe's face his own straightened into lines of amazement and most evident terror. Holcombe stopped at the sight, and stared back wondering.
"Why don't you get up? Are you hurt?" she said. "Wait; lie still," she commanded, "or he'll tramp on you. I'll get him off." She slipped from her saddle and dragged Holcombe's pony to his feet. Holcombe stood up unsteadily, pale through his tan from the pain of the fall and the moment of fear. "That was nasty," said Mrs. Carroll, with a quick breath. She was quite as pale as he.
Holcombe's eyes lighted as brightly at the sight as though the notes were for his own private pleasures in the future. "Be quick!" he said. "I cannot be responsible for the men outside." Allen bent over the money, his face drawing into closer and sharper lines as the amount grew, under his fingers, to the sum Holcombe had demanded. "Sixty thousand!" he said, in a voice of desperate calm.
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