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Updated: June 19, 2025
But for the most part their alert, eager deference, their tame subservience, the abject humility and debasement of their bent shoulders drove Jadwin to the verge of self-control. He grew to detest the business; he regretted even the defiant brutality of Scannel, a rascal, but none the less keeping his head high. The more the fellows cringed to him, the tighter he wrenched the screw.
The old man said no word, but he leaned far forward in his chair, his eyes fixed upon Scannel, his breath coming short, his fingers dancing against his chin. "Yes, that's him, Hargus," said Jadwin. "You and he had a big deal on your hands a long time ago," he continued, turning suddenly upon Scannel, a pulse in his temple beginning to beat. "A big deal, and you sold him out."
He had observed Hargus sitting by the other side of the desk, still fumbling and mumbling in his dirty memoranda, but he gave no sign of recognition. There was a moment's silence, then in a voice from which all the first bluffness was studiously excluded, Scannel said: "Well, you've rung the bell on me. I'm a sucker. I know it.
"I picked them to meet Scannel and Boynton. And I'll bet they beat 'em, too." "Why didn't you enter the doubles?" asked Clint. "Oh, I had enough to do looking after the thing," replied Amy, "and getting through the singles." Clint smiled. "I reckon the real reason was that you didn't want to hog the show and take both prizes, eh?" "No fear of that, I guess," answered the other evasively.
"I'll let you have six hundred thousand of it at a dollar and a half a bushel." "A dollar and a half! Why, my God, man! Oh well" Scannel spread out his hands nonchalantly "I shall simply go into bankruptcy just as you said." "Oh, no, you won't," replied Jadwin, pushing back and crossing his legs. "I've had your financial standing computed very carefully, Mr. Scannel. You've got the ready money.
Surely the peacock, with its incomparable parade of glorious colour and the scannel voice of it issuing forth, as in mockery, from its painted throat, must, like my landlady's butterflies at Great Missenden, have been invented by some skilful fabulist for the consolation and support of homely virtue: or rather, perhaps, by a fabulist not quite so skilful, who made points for the moment without having a studious enough eye to the complete effect; for I thought these melting greens and blues so beautiful that afternoon, that I would have given them my vote just then before the sweetest pipe in all the spring woods.
Hargus, his bleared old eyes blinking and watering, looked across the desk at the other. "Oh, what's the game?" exclaimed Scannel. "I ain't here on exhibition, I guess. But he was interrupted by a sharp, quick gasp that all at once issued from Hargus's trembling lips.
"Yes, yes, I know, I know," cried Jadwin. "I've seen it. You showed it to me yesterday, you remember." "I I got it here somewheres ... somewheres," persisted the old man, fumbling and peering, and as he spoke the clerk from the doorway announced: "Mr. Scannel." This latter was a large, thick man, red-faced, with white, short whiskers of an almost wiry texture.
Well, how goes it?" "All right. I've fixed the warehouse crowd and we just about 'own' the editorial and news sheets of these papers." He threw a memorandum down upon the desk. "I'm off again now. Got an appointment with the Northwestern crowd in ten minutes. Has Hargus or Scannel shown up yet?" "Hargus is always out in your customers' room," answered Jadwin. "I can get him whenever I want him.
Scannel squared himself in his chair, his little eyes twinkling. "Look here," he cried, furiously, "I don't take that kind of talk from the best man that ever wore shoe-leather. Cut it out, understand? Cut it out." Jadwin's lower jaw set with a menacing click; aggressive, masterful, he leaned forward. "You interrupt me again," he declared, "and you'll go out of that door a bankrupt.
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