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Updated: June 25, 2025
"It's my belief the beggar'd flirt with Mrs. Lee, himself, if he only got the chance" said Redmond laconically, "d'you recollect that day he picked her parcel up for her how nice she was to him?" "Eyah," said Slavin darkly, "I remimber ut! That man" he darted an accusing finger at Yorke "wud thry tu come th' Don Jewan wid anything wid a shkirrt on from coast to coast. Flirrt?
Yes, and I'd about concluded it was my duty to let him know; but if, as you say, he's found out for himself I'll be saved all the bother of telling." "He followed you across yesterday, Hugh. By a mere accident I heard him telling Tip Slavin, and he seemed to think it a good joke, because you never once suspected he was spying on you from behind trees and bushes.
I saw that it was a boy who was smoking a cigarette like everything, yes, Tip Slavin, if you please. He discovered me at about the same second, and, say, you ought to have seen how he flipped that coffin-nail thing from his lips, and came on as bold as anything." Thad chuckled. "Huh! guess you got him dead to rights that time, Owen. Did you accuse him of being a thief?" he asked hurriedly.
Don't you approve?" "Approve! No, by crimus, I don't approve! I think it's a divil of a note, that's what I think." "Why?" "WHY? Who's goin' to do the work in this office while you're gone? Labe and me, that's who; and I'll do the heft of it. Slavin' myself half to death as 'tis and now Oh, by crimustee! This war is a darned nuisance. It hadn't ought to be allowed.
Yet he realized, as he fronted the facts, how very little he really had to build upon, the fragmentary declaration of Slavin, wrung from him in a moment of terror; an idle boast made to Brant by the surprised scout; a second's glimpse at a scarred hand, little enough, indeed, yet by far the most clearly marked trail he had ever struck in all his vain endeavor to pierce the mystery which had so utterly ruined his life.
It was Slavin. His hour had come. There was something appalling in the spectacle of the two gigantic men rushing thus upon each other. Suddenly, Gully tripped over a log and fell headlong, his deadly gun flying from his grasp. With a sort of uncanny, cat-like agility he scrambled to his feet and strove to recover his weapon. He was a fraction of a second too late.
Ward Kenwood had entered heart and soul into the work, which seemed to appeal to him; but there were those who secretly believed he was more concerned about opposing his rival, Paul Morrison, than in building up a second troop of scouts that would be a credit to the place. Ted Slavin, of course, worked hand in glove with his friend, Ward.
No wretch dragged shrieking to the scaffold could have formed a more pitiful sight, but there was no mercy in the eyes of the man watching him. "Speak, you cringing hound!" Slavin gripped his great hands together convulsively, his throat swelling beneath its red beard. He knew there was no way of escape. "I I had to do it! My God, Captain, I had to do it!" "Why?" "I had to, I tell you.
"What was I a-sayin'? You must excuse me, Mr. de Laney, but you, being a man, can have no idea of the life us poor women folks lead, slavin' our very lives away to keep things runnin', and then no thanks fer it a'ter all. I'd just like t' see Bill Lawton try it fer jest one week. He'd be a ravin' lunatic, an' thet I tell him often. This country's jest awful, too.
It wanted four hours yet until train time and inside the living-room the inspector, Slavin, and Yorke were beguiling the interval in low-voiced conversation. "Strange thing, Sergeant," remarked Kilbride musingly, "I can't place him now, but I'll swear I've seen this man, Gully, before; somewhere back of beyond, I guess.
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