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Updated: May 28, 2025
He waited for no answer, but went on. "I give it up, MacTaggart," said he, with a gesture of impatience. "Gad! I cannot pretend to know half the plots you are either in yourself or listening on the outside of, though I get credit, I know, for planning them.
The Chamberlain resumed his chair defiantly and folded his arms. "I'll be cursed if I see the need for all this preamble," said he; "but your Grace can fire away. It need never be said that Simon MacTaggart was feared to account for himself when the need happened." "Within certain limitations, I daresay that is true," said the Duke.
Is this the best that Sim MacTaggart that knows and feels things can be doing? And still they're worthy fellows, still I must be liking them." "Rants!" he cried, and stood among them tall and straight and handsome, with lowering dark brows, and his face more pale than they had known it customarily, "a little less rant would be the better for us.
"Rape, arson, forgery, robbery, thigging, sorning, pickery, murder, or high treason?" "Clap them all together, Mr. Petullo, and just call it local inconduciveness," cried MacTaggart. "Simply the Duke may not care for his society. That should be enough for the Fiscal and Long Davie the dempster, shouldn't it?" "H'm!" said Petullo. "It's a bit vague, Mr.
"Pardon, M. le Duc, it is not so, always with infinite deference, and without a coat as I have had the boldness to remark before: my task had gone on gaily enough had your Monsieur MacTaggart not been the victim of some inexplicable fever unless as I sometimes suspect it were a preposterous jealousy that made me the victim of his somewhat stupid folly play."
"Te-he!" squeaked Petullo with an irritating falsetto. "You must have your bit joke, Mr. MacTaggart. Did his Grace did his Grace I was just wondering if his Grace said anything to-day about my unfortunate accident with the compote yestreen." He looked more cunningly than ever at the Chamberlain. "In his Grace's class, Mr.
I cannot but think you are far from knowing the worst of Simon MacTaggart." "The worst!" said Doom. "That's between himself and Hell, but I know as much as most, and it's enough to make me sure the man's as boss as an empty barrel. He was once a sort of friend of mine, till twenty years ago my wife grew to hate the very mention of his name.
He changed to the tune of a minuet, then essayed at a melody more sweet and haunting than them all, but broken ere its finish. "A hole in the ballant," commented the Provost. "Have another skelp at it, Factor." "Later on perhaps," said Sim MacTaggart. "The end of it aye escapes my memory. Rather a taking tune, I think don't you?
"Doubtless! doubtless!" said the Chamberlain. "That's an old tale between the two of us, but you should hear the other side upon it." "No matter; we gave you the credit and the reward of doing your duty as you engaged, and yet you mixed the business up with some extremely dirty work no sophistry of yours or mine will dare defend. You took our money, MacTaggart and you sold us!
My men saw this was a real danger, and this was the only way I saw of excusing myself. It is at such a moment as this that the Giant's robe gets, so to speak, between your legs and threatens to trip you up. Going up a forbidden road, and exposing yourself as a pot shot to ambushed natives would be jam and fritters to Mr. MacTaggart, for example; but I am not up to that form yet.
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