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"I'll see what there is," and Timmons started for the kitchen, "but I wouldn't wake Ma Timmons up fer a thousand dollars. She'd never git over it." The large man, a rather heavy-footed fellow, with scraggly grey moustache, turned to his companion. "Better luck than I expected at that, Colgate," he said, restored to good humour. "The old duffer seems to be quite human."
"Waal, sorter medium, I should say; brown hair with a bit o' red in it, an' a pair o' grey eyes full of fun some girl, to my notion." The questioner struck his fist on the wood sharply. "Well, what the devil do you suppose such a woman has come to this hole clear from New York for, Timmons? What's her game, anyhow?" "Blessed if I know," and the proprietor seated himself on a high stool.
Timmons, who had received his instructions without the slightest emotion, gravely unpacked it. "You've got to admit the service in this house is excellent. If you don't mind we'll dress for dinner," remarked the Governor lounging in the doorway. "I forgot to say that there's a lady dining with us " "A lady!" demanded Archie with a frown.
"If you are ever frightened or in need of a friend, call on me. I'll be in town two days yet, and after that Pete here can get word to me." Then, with an admiring, honest gaze, he searched her eyes a moment before he turned and strolled toward the rude cigar-case. "All right, now, ma'am?" Pete Timmons said, picking, up her valise.
Miss Donovan sat in one of the chairs by the front window waiting. As they entered she arose to her feet. Westcott crossed the room and took her hand. "He's all right," he assured her quickly, interpreting the question in her eyes. "Tired from the trip, of course, but a night's rest will do wonders. And now, Timmons," he turned to the bewildered landlord, "is that man Enright upstairs?"
"I have not the pleasure of that lady's acquaintance, but Timmons informed me this morning that she had taken the late train last night for the East isn't that true, Enright?" The lawyer managed to nod, but without venturing to remove his gaze from Westcott's face. The latter never moved, but his eyes seemed to harden.
Here was a bit of strange news the La Rue woman married, and to a man with a long name beginning with C. The same thought occurred to them both, yet it was evidently useless to question Timmons any longer. He would know nothing, and comprehend less. The girl looked tired, completely worn out, and the affair could rest until morning.
Gentlemen of the House of Representatives: In compliance with your desire expressed in your resolution of the 2d of this month, I lay before you an extract of a letter from George C. Moreton, acting consul of the United States at The Havannah, dated the 13th of November, 1798, to the Secretary of State, with a copy of a letter from him to L. Tresevant and William Timmons, esquires, with their answer.
There's a wounded man under the canvas there. Come on, and help me carry him inside." Timmons, sputtering but impotent to resist, took hold reluctantly, and the two together bore the helpless Cavendish through the deserted office and up the stairs to the second floor, where he was comfortably settled and a doctor sent for.
Big Jim Westcott has his claws cut, and it's Beaton's turn to spend a little." Westcott sat quietly in the chair as they filed out; then took the pipe from his pocket and filled it slowly. He realised his defeat, his helplessness, but his mind was already busy with the future. Timmons came out from behind the desk a bit solicitous. "Hurt eny?" he asked. "Didn't wing yer, or nuthin'?"
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