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Updated: June 17, 2025
Thayor raised his head and looked at her. "You never told me, Alice, that you were giving a dinner to-night I never knew, in fact, until I found these." "And having found them you pawed them over." There was a subtle, almost malicious defiance in her tone. "Go on what else? Come be quick! I must look at my table."
He rubbed his face and neck into a glow, combing his hair as best he could with his hands. He was as hungry as a wolf. Thayor was now beginning to understand their unwillingness to accept pay for their services.
Suddenly, and apparently without anything leading up to it, and as if some haunting memory of his own had prompted it, Thayor leaned forward and touched Billy's arm, and with a certain meaning in his voice asked: "There is something I have wanted to ask you ever since I came, Holcomb. Tell me about that poor hide-out the man your father fed in the woods that night. Did he get away?"
By the next twilight Sam Thayor had seen with his own eyes every detail of his forest domain. Only when this tour of inspection with Holcomb was over did he lead Billy back into the living hall of his new house. His manner, after the hearty greeting given him on his arrival, had lapsed into one of mute enthusiasm. His delight had more than convinced Billy of his approval.
"And the old dog, I suppose, still talks to him?" laughed Thayor. "I've never known Hite to lie," replied Holcomb with a grin. "And now tell me about poor Dinsmore. I have watched the papers but I have seen nothing of his arrest and so I suppose he is safe in Canada, or is he still about here?" "I think he is still in hiding, sir," replied Holcomb in an evasive tone.
Not the Samuel Thayor that Holcomb had talked to during that memorable luncheon at The Players, when he sat silent among Randall's guests; nor the Samuel Thayor who had faced his wife; nor the Samuel Thayor, the love of whose daughter put strength in his arms and courage in his heart.
They, like Holcomb, were fully aware of the fact that Bergstein was playing a dangerous game. They were waiting for the denouement. At times when the men gave vent to their grievances Hite Holt and Freme Skinner did their level best to smooth things over; they did not want to trouble Thayor. The same afternoon of Bergstein's discharge the gang at the lower shanty struck.
"Last winter," he went on hurriedly, as he glanced at the setting sun, "I stumbled on them both just as you've done, only my trail led through the conservatory of the New York house. They were both hard pressed, do you see, for a way out; that's how I first knew about Mr. Thayor's intention to purchase this property." "The telegram Mr. Thayor sent, you mean?" "No a letter.
"Will you kindly give this to the mother and the little girl," he said. "You will oblige me by not saying whom it is from." "Well, now, that's mighty good of you, Mr. Thayor," Bergstein faltered; "she'll "
To exit thus, beaten by the truth, was not easy a gentleman is always a difficult opponent. "Good mornin'," he sneered as he started to follow the last man through the door; "a hell of a lot you done for us." "Good morning," returned Thayor, looking up "and good-bye. You may go to Holcomb, Dollard, for whatever is due you at once."
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