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Updated: July 3, 2025
Leroy gave a careless nod of acquiescence, then glancing round the room, up at the clock, and down again to Jost's desk, strewn with letters and documents of every description, he smiled a little to himself, and followed the all-powerful editor into the smaller adjoining apartment. The door closed behind them both, and Jost turned the key in the lock from within.
The letter was addressed to a woman of the same name as that of the miller's widow. The name of the street was illegible, but the words "To be called for," were plainly written. Veronica was convinced that the letter she was in search of lay before her. So Jost had written as she had expected he would do, the day before. He had undoubtedly seen that Dietrich's letter had been opened.
He was proud to show Veronica that she might count on his courage, where he had only the forces of nature to contend against, and not the treacherous tricks of Jost. Veronica had a hard battle with herself that night. "Must I do it?" she asked herself again and again, and each time her heart revolted and she groaned aloud, "I cannot, oh, I cannot!"
"Where were you, Dietrich?" "They had some business with me; that is, Jost had something to tell me, and Blasi was there too. Jost did not care to speak of it on the open street, and so we went into the Rehbock; and that is what made me so late. Why, what's the matter, Veronica? Are you ill?" She was as pale as a ghost. "What!
Didn't you know how unhappy you were making me?" "What, mother! what do you mean? I wrote three times to you and twice to Veronica; and you sent me back word through Jost that you did not want to hear from me; that the disgrace was too much, and that no one dared to mention my name before Veronica, she was so angry with me.
"There's no losing about it;" said Jost confidently, "You're sure to win in the end, if you keep on long enough. It doesn't signify if you do lose a little at first you can afford to wait." "I think my trade is surer of winning;" said Dietrich. "Oh yes, sure enough!" said Jost scornfully.
"Credentials!" exclaimed Jost; "Do you suppose I would have received him at all had credentials been lacking? Not I! He brought me the most sure and confidential sign of your trust that could be produced your own signet-ring!" The Marquis staggered back, as though Jost's words had been so many direct blows on the chest, his countenance turned a livid white.
"It's an awesome place," whispered Mr. Gallosh. "I hardly thought it would have been as lonesome-like." There was a tremor in his voice that irritated the Baron. "Pooh!" he answered, "it is jost vun old piece of hombog! I do not believe in soch things myself." "Neither do I, my lord; oh, neither do I; but would you fancy a dram?" "Not for me, I zank you," said his lordship stiffly.
"I should gain access to his chief tool, David Jost, by means of the Prime Minister's signet," said Lotys, "If I could get the signet! which I cannot! Nor can you! But if I could, I should persuade Jost to talk freely, and so betray himself. He and Carl Perousse move the Premier and the King whichever way they please." "Is that so ?" began Leroy, when he was answered by a dozen voices at once:
Miss Woodburn asked, "And is Mr. Dryfoos senio' anything like ouah Mr. Dryfoos?" "Not the least." "But he's jost as exemplary?" "Yes; in his way." "Well, Ah wish Ah could see all those pinks of puffection togethah, once." "Why, look here! I've been thinking I'd celebrate a little, when the old gentleman gets back. Have a little supper something of that kind.
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