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Updated: June 21, 2025
He was asleep in a chair on the porch of his villa when Mr. Scobell paid his call, and it was not until the financier's secretary, who attended the seance in the capacity of interpreter, had rocked him vigorously from side to side for quite a minute that he displayed any signs of animation beyond a snore like the growling of distant thunder.
His courtiers were long distinguishable in England by their obliging and agreeable manners. Till the revolution, the liberty of the press was very imperfectly enjoyed in England, and during a very short period. The star chamber, while that court subsisted, put effectual restraints upon printing. * Scobell i. 44, 134; ii. 88, 230.
It certainly paid its way and brought him a small sum each year, but to him it was a failure, a bombshell that had fizzled. He had intended to do big things with Peaceful Moments. He had meant to start a new epoch in the literature of Manhattan. "I gottan idea," he had said to Miss Scobell. "All this yellow journalism red blood and all that folks are tired of it. They want something milder.
Workmen poured into Mervo, and in a very short time, dominating the town and reducing to insignificance the palace of the late Prince, once a passably imposing mansion, there rose beside the harbor a mammoth Casino of shining stone. Imposing as was the exterior, it was on the interior that Mr. Scobell more particularly prided himself, and not without reason.
Yet it would have been untrue to describe her as dependent upon him. She had a detached mind. Though her whole life had been devoted to his comfort and though she admired him intensely, she never appeared to give his conversation any real attention. She listened to him much as she would have listened to a barking Pomeranian. "Marion!" cried Mr. Scobell.
Jane Oakley, who lived in a cottage on Staten Island, and was reputed to spend five hundred dollars a year some said less out of her snug income of eighteen million. She was an unusual old lady in many ways, and, unfortunately, unusually full of deep-rooted prejudices. The fear lest he might inadvertently fall foul of these rarely ceased to haunt Mr. Scobell.
I guess you've heard that there's a prince here instead of a republic now? Well, that's where you come in." "Do you mean ?" she hesitated. "Yes, I do," said Mr. Scobell. There was a touch of doggedness in his voice. He was not going to stand any nonsense, by Heck, but there was no doubt that Betty's wide-open eyes were not very easy to meet. He went on rapidly.
"That'll be all right," said Mr. Scobell. "Old man Blong's offer to the Prince of Monaco was five hundred thousand francs a year that's somewhere around a hundred thousand dollars in real money and half the profits made by the Casino. That's my offer, too. See how that hits him, Crump." Mr. Crump investigated. "He says he accepts gladly, on behalf of the Republic, sir," he announced.
Scobell replaced the remains of his cigar between his lips, and turned to business. "Eh, Prince?" he said. "Yes!" "I want you, Prince," said Mr. Scobell, "to help boom this place. That's where you come in." "Sure," said John. "As to ruling and all that," continued Mr. Scobell, "there isn't any to do. The place runs itself.
An unbiased observer would have said that she made a pretty picture, standing there, in her white dress, but in the matter of pictures, still life was evidently what Mr. Scobell preferred for his gaze never wandered from the cigar stump which he had removed from his mouth in order to knock off the ash. Betty continued to regard him steadfastly. The shock of his words had to some extent numbed her.
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