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Updated: June 21, 2025
"A five-legged rabbit has been born in Carbondale, Southern Illinois," she announced. Mr. Scobell cursed the five-legged rabbit. "Never mind about your rabbits. I want to hear that piece you read before. The one about the Prince of Monaco. Will you listen, Marion!" "The Prince of Monaco, dear? Yes. He has caught another fish or something of that sort, I think. Yes.
The financier was still talking. "So that's how it stands, Prince," he was saying, "and it's up to us to get busy." John looked at him. "I intend to," he said. "Good boy!" said the financier. "To begin with, I shall run you out of this place, Mr. Scobell." The other gasped. "There is going to be a cleaning-up," John went on. "I've thought it out. There will be no more gambling in Mervo."
His Highness appeared to be pacing the floor like a caged animal at the luncheon hour. The resemblance was heightened by the expression in the royal eye as His Highness swung round at the opening of the door and faced the financier. "Why, say, Prince," said Mr. Scobell, "this is lucky. I been looking for you. I just been to the Palace, and the main guy there told me you had gone out." "I did.
"Well?" said John. "This," observed Mr. Scobell simply, "is hell." He drew a cigar stump mechanically from his vest pocket and lighted it. "What are you going to do about it?" he asked. "What are you?" said John. "It's up to you." Mr. Scobell gazed heavily into vacancy. "Ever since I started in to monkey with that darned Mervo," he said sadly, "there ain't a thing gone right.
The staff of the Palace were loyal, but considered as cheery companions, they were handicapped by the fact that they spoke no English, while John spoke no French. Mr. Crump was the bearer of another note from Mr. Scobell. This time John tore it up unread, and, turning to the secretary, invited him to sit down and make himself at home. Sipping a cocktail and smoking one of John's cigars, Mr.
Then, biff! right on top of that, Royal Romance Prince Weds American Girl Love at First Sight Picturesque Wedding! Gee, we'll wipe Monte Carlo clean off the map. We'll have 'em licked to a splinter. We It's the greatest scheme on earth." "I have no doubt you are right, Bennie," said Miss Scobell, "but " her voice became dreamy again "it's not very romantic."
M. d'Orby confirmed the statement by rising, dodging the cigar, and kissing Mr. Scobell on both cheeks. "Cut it out," said the financier austerely, breaking out of the clinch. "We'll take the Apache Dance as read. Good-by, Squire. Glad it's settled. Now I can get busy." He did.
Listen what she says: "By the time you read this I shall be gone. I am going back to America as quickly as I can. I am giving this to a boy to take to you directly the boat has started. Please do not try to bring me back. I would sooner die than marry the Prince." John started violently. "What!" he cried. Mr. Scobell nodded sympathy. "That's what she says. She sure has it in bad for you.
"You talk as if you had just to wave your hand. Why should your prince want to marry a girl he has never seen?" "He will," said Mr. Scobell confidently. "How do you know?" "Because I know he's a sensible young skeesicks. That's how. See here, Betty, you've gotten hold of wrong ideas about this place. You don't understand the position of affairs. Your aunt didn't till I put her wise."
Scobell, convicted of dictation even after three dollars' worth of "dearest aunt!" Betty handed back the cable. Her chin, emblem of war, was tilted and advanced. "I'll tell you why I ran away, Aunt," she said. Mrs. Oakley listened to her story in silence. Betty did not relate it at great length, for with every word she spoke, the thought of John stabbed her afresh.
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