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Updated: May 13, 2025
They began to walk down the terrace. They were quite close now. Neither was speaking; but, presently when they were but a few feet away, they stopped. There was the splutter of a match, and McEachern lighted a cigar. In the yellow light, his face was clearly visible. Jimmy looked, and was content.
"But as Molly promised ye " said he. "Just so," said Jimmy. "My own sentiments, neatly expressed. Shall we start, Miss McEachern?" "That fellah," said Mr. Wesson solemnly to his immortal soul, "is a damn bounder. And cad," he added after a moment's reflection. The fowls lived in a little world of noise and smells at the back of the stables.
"Come in, Mr. McEachern," he said, "come in. Journeys end in lovers meeting. You know my friend, Mr. Mullins, I think? Shut the door, and sit down and let's talk of many things." "It's a conspiracy!" thundered Mr. McEachern. He stood in the doorway, breathing heavily.
McEachern had begun by being the first, had risen to the second, and for some years now had been a prominent member of the small and hugely prosperous third class, the class that does not go out seeking graft, but sits at home and lets graft come to it. In his search for wealth, he had been content to abide his time. He did not want the trifling sum that every New York policeman acquires.
He doesn't go racketing around " "His uncle doesn't allow him enough pocket-money," said Molly, with a jarring little laugh. "Perhaps, that's why." There was a pause. McEachern required a few moments in which to marshal his arguments once more. He had been thrown out of his stride. Molly turned to him. The hardness had gone from her face. She looked up at him wistfully.
McEachern and himself offered a permanent bar to his prospects, he did not believe. For the moment, he declined to consider the existence of the ex-constable at all. In a world that contained Molly, there was no room for other people. They were not in the picture. They did not exist.
"Rummest card, sir, I ever lagged in my natural," he said. "How's that? inquired Mr. McEachern amiably. "Why," grinned Mr. Galer, "you'll hardly believe it, sir, but he had the impudence, the gall, if I may use the word, the sauce to tell me he was in my own line of business. A detective, sir! Said he was going into the room to keep guard. I said to him at the time, I said, it's too thin, cocky.
Got to dance this one." He rose from his chair, and dropped his cigarette into the ash-tray. "So long," he said, with a friendly nod. "Wish I could stop, but it's no go. That's the last let-up I shall have to-night." He went out, leaving Mr. McEachern a prey to many and varied emotions. He had only been gone a few minutes when Mr. McEachern's meditations were again interrupted.
McEachern, looking at her, found it hard to realize that nineteen years had passed since the moment when the doctor's raised eyebrows had reproved him for his monosyllabic reception of the news that the baby was a girl. "Do you know what the time is?" he said. "Two o'clock." "Much too late for you to be sitting here smoking," said Molly, severely. "How many cigars do you smoke a day?
I knew a man who broke into a house in New York to win a bet, and to this day the owner of that house thinks him a professional burglar." "What's that?" said Mr. McEachern, sharply. "Why do I say 'a man ? Why am I so elusive and mysterious? You're quite right. It sounds more dramatic, but after all what you want is facts. Very well. I broke into your house that night to win a bet.
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