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Updated: May 14, 2025
"I'll break Morrissy's head one of these fine days. Let's go over to Johnny's; there's music over there." "All right, Ben." "And no more booze, mind." "Just as you say." Up stairs the gambling-den was doing a good business. The annual trotting meet had brought many sporting men to town.
Morrissy's glance, somewhat bewildered, traveled from face to face. On entering he had seen only McQuade's tranquil visage. He sat down, disturbed and mystified. "What's this?" Morrissy demanded to know. "Hanged if I know!" said McQuade. "These two gentlemen presented themselves a few moments ago and requested me to send for Bolles. Have a cigar."
"You all know me, boys," he began. "You bet!" "You're all right!" "Speech! Go ahead!" Jordan caught Morrissy's eye. Morrissy nodded with bad grace. Jordan spoke for half an hour. He repeated word for word what Bennington had told him. In the end he was greeted with laughter. "Very well, boys," he said, shrugging. "It's none of my business. You've never caught me lying yet.
So the sixty thousand offered by the French Government remains uncalled for. Who has the originals I can't say. I'm sorry. Morrissy's game was risky. His idea was to make a sudden breakaway with the beads lose them in the gutter and trust to luck that we would just miss killing him, which was the case. Leaving to-night. Bought a sloop down there, and I'm going back there to live.
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