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Updated: June 11, 2025
The old minister had been moved bag, baggage and creed over to Tollman's larger house, and in these days of reaccommodated régime, the road between the two places was one busy with errand-running.
The regret in Tollman's voice was sincere, because it was the regret of a trapper who sees game slipping away from the snare, and it made him perhaps a shade over insistent. "Do you really regard it as so important?"
"Here is a Syracusan decadrachm with the head of Persephone, which is at once rare, well preserved, and beautiful. I am afraid to tell what I paid for it." The Interviewer was not an expert in numismatics. He cared very little more for an old coin than he did for an old button, but he had thought his purchase at the tollman's might prove a good speculation.
When he come home I ask him. Who will I tell him wants to ask him about old coin?" "Tell him a gentleman visiting Arrowhead Village would like to call and show him some old pieces of money, said to be Roman ones." The Interviewer had just remembered that he had two or three old battered bits of copper which he had picked up at a tollman's, where they had been passed off for cents.
When he come home I ask him. Who will I tell him wants to ask him about old coin?" "Tell him a gentleman visiting Arrowhead Village would like to call and show him some old pieces of money, said to be Roman ones." The Interviewer had just remembered that he had two or three old battered bits of copper which he had picked up at a tollman's, where they had been passed off for cents.
Tollman's scowl deepened and the thought presented itself that he had been unwise in ever giving such a dishonest fellow the hold upon him of a prior employment. But he controlled himself and invited curtly, "Very well. Sit down." Mr. Hagan did so, and this time it was Mr.
Some business promoter, I fancy." But as Conscience left, Tollman's scowl returned. "Hagan," he repeated with a soft but wrathful voice to himself. "The blackmailer!" His face bore a somewhat frigid welcome, when almost immediately the manager of the Searchlight Investigation Bureau presented himself. Mr.
She knew at last how much stauncher a thing was his own dependable strength and ripened manhood than the frothy charm of a half-fledged gallant who had crumpled under the test. Among the guests who for several days filled both the manse and Tollman's house, were two who were not entirely beguiled by Conscience's gracious and buoyant demeanor.
Farquaharson was a fellow passenger." "I had happened to hear of it." Eben Tollman's wife spoke casually and Marion countered with an equal urbanity. "Yes, one does happen to hear of these things, doesn't one? He called the meeting a coincidence and was surprised." "And you?" "I could hardly be astonished because you see I had, without his knowledge, waylaid him."
And while the victim of terror stood, transfixed with his premonition of crisis, Farquaharson also glanced down and, seeing the envelope, added: "No here's one more. It must have been lying here all the time." To Tollman's eyes familiar with content and superscription, it was all glaringly conspicuous.
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