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"Here's the duplicate for you." Morrissy lighted a match and set fire to the sheet; he stamped on the ashes with grim satisfaction. "Not for mine," with a laugh. "You're welcome to yours." McQuade folded his deliberately and put it away in the safe. The sheet of carbon paper he crumpled into a ball and tossed into the waste-basket.
We all commit blunders at one time or another, and McQuade had just committed his. "That's all, Morrissy. I think I can trust you fully. I mean no harm, boy; 'tis only self-preservation." "Oh, so long as your name's on it there's no kick coming from me; only I never saw you do such a fool thing before. Anything else to-day?" "No. You might keep tab on that fool Bolles.
But wait; they say the villain is recoverin' that destroyed her well he may recover from the blow of Shawn-na-Middogue, but he will get a blow from me that he won't recover from. I will imitate Morrissy and will welcome his fate." "Aisy, Torley," said Casey; "hould in a little. You are spakin' now of Masther Charles?" "I am, the villain! warn't they found together?"
"I will go at once at the matter in hand. Those letters, John." Warrington held out his hand. "I'll read one to you, McQuade." He read slowly and distinctly. "What the hell is this?" said Morrissy. "It's up to Mr. Warrington to explain." McQuade grinned. That grin, however, nearly cost him his life. "John, remember your promise!" cried Warrington. John sat down, seized with a species of vertigo.
"Morrissy." "Mr. Morrissy. Mr. Chittenden, are you willing to join the union?" Bennington smiled as he plied this question. "Not I! My word, I'd as lief starve as become a union man, and under such a master. I prize my manhood and independence above all things. I have already refused to join. I never take back what I say." "Neither do I, Mr. Chittenden." Bennington stood up.
Don't know him, but he's likely to bust the yacht wide open if he gets loose." "Well, so long, Mary! Know what my first move'll be?" "A bottle somewhere. But mind your step! Don't monkey with the stuff beyond normal. You know what I mean." "Sure! Only a peg or two, after all this psalm-singing!" "I know, Flint. But this game is no joke. You know what happened in town? Morrissy was near croaked."
When they were gone Morrissy turned savagely upon McQuade. "I told you you were a damn fool!" "Get out of here, both of you; and if you ever stick your heads in this office again, I'll smash you." McQuade dropped into his chair, once more alone. He sat there for an hour, thinking, ruminating, planning; but all his thinking and ruminating and planning had but one result: they had him licked.
"He will if he knows which side his bread is buttered on," contemptuously. The two went up to McQuade's office. It was deserted. "The girl's gone this afternoon," said McQuade, "but I can handle the typewriter myself." "All I've got to say is that I mailed you a receipt. What do you want it for?" with a final protest. "I've got an idea in my head, Morrissy. I want that receipt.
The angry strikers divided ranks and the strangers entered the shops. Morrissy directed his steps to McQuade's office, and together they paid a visit to the mayor. "Look here, Donnelly, did you permit Bennington to swear in deputy police?" asked McQuade. "Deputy police? Bennington has no deputy police from this place," answered Donnelly hotly.
John spread the sheet against the window-pane. The light behind brought out the letters distinctly. He scarcely reached the final line when he spun round, his face mobile with eagerness. "Where did this come from?" "Indirectly, out of McQuade's waste-basket." "Morrissy and McQuade; both of them! Oh, you have done me a service, Dick." "But it can not be used, John.
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