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Updated: June 8, 2025
"Yes, for the lot, and I've made the contracts with the ships to carry it." "At our price?" again asked the old man. Tarboe nodded. "Just a little better." "I wouldn't have believed those two things could have been done in the time." Grier rubbed his hands cheerfully. "That's a good day's work. It's the best you've done since you've come." Carnac watched the scene with interest.
There was, however, so much of the comedienne in her, so much coquetry, that only one who knew her well could have seen the things that troubled her behind all. As though to punish herself, she began to speak of Tarboe, and Mrs. Grier's face clouded; she spoke more of Tarboe, and the gloom deepened.
"He has as good a chance as you, m'sieu'. Here's a list of doubtful ones, and you'll see they're of consequence." "They are indeed," said Barouche, scanning the list. "I'd no idea these would be doubtful." "Luke Tarboe's working like the devil for Carnac. People believe in him. Half the men on that list were affected by Tarboe's turning over. Tarboe is a master-man; he has fought like hell."
It was a sad thing for monsignor to be called a Ninety-Niner, as were all good friends of Tarboe, high and low. But when he came to know, after the wine had been leisurely drunk and becomingly praised, he brought his influence to bear in civic places, so that there was nothing left to do but to corner Tarboe at last.
Yet there flashed into his heart a love, which he had never felt so far in his life, for John Grier. The old man had believed he would come out right in the end, and so had left him the fortune in so odd a way. How Carnac longed to tell Tarboe the whole truth about Barode Barouche, and yet dare not!
And she, that sweet young lady, she she was there too; and now when I look at this Tarboe, the brother of that man, and see her and know what I know sacre!" He waved a hand. "No-no-no, don't think there's anything except what's in the soul. That man has touched ma'm'selle I don't know why, but he has touched her heart. Perhaps by his great bulk, his cleverness, his brains, his way of doing things.
Like most of her sex, she loved the thrill of warfare. There flashed the feeling, however, that it would be finer sport if Carnac and Tarboe were to be at war, instead of Carnac and Barouche. It was curious she never thought of Carnac but the other man came throbbing into sight the millionaire, for he was that now. In one way, this last move of Carnac's had the elements of a master-stroke.
He took a cigar from his pocket, cut off the blunt end, and continued: "You threw your chance aside." He tapped the paper with the point of the cigar. "That's what Tarboe has helped do. What have you got to show?" He pointed to the statue. "I won't say it ain't good. It's a live man from the river. But what do I want with that, when I can have the original man himself!
Presently Denzil faced him, having closed the door. "I said I'd been near to your family and you didn't believe me. Sit down, please to, and I'll tell you my story." Seating himself with a little curt laugh, Tarboe waved a hand as though to say: "Go ahead. I'm ready." It was difficult for Denzil to begin. He walked up and down the room, muttering and shaking his head.
Tarboe of the lies being told against you. Here is the proof. She has gone. She told it to Barode Barouche, and he was to have announced it last night, but I saw her first. You can now deny the story. The game is yours. Tell the man Roudin to produce the woman she is now in New York, if the train was not lost. I will tell you all when you are M.P. JUNIA.
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