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When the gate latch clicked at Norman's outgoing, Tom had risen and was knocking the ash from his pipe and buttoning his coat. "I was admitting that I knew," he said. "I can tell you more now than I could a moment ago, because the time for which I have been waiting has come. You remarked that you thought the Farleys were at the end of their rope. They were not until to-day, but to-day they are.
I'd make the proposition to him, personally, if he were here, and the boss; and he'd be a fool if he didn't jump at it," said Tom earnestly. "But there is more to it than that. If we make a go of this, and don't protect ourselves, the two Farleys will come back and put the whole thing in their pockets. I won't go into it on any such terms.
During this bit of side play the attorney was laboring with the two Farleys, and Tom, watching narrowly, saw that there was a hitch of some kind. "What is it?" he demanded, turning shortly on the trio at the table. The lawyer explained. Mr. Farley thought the plan proposed was entirely too far-reaching in its effects, or possible effects.
Farley? or was it with Vincent?" He smiled and shook his head. "We can't do it, Ardea go back to the old way, you know. You see there's a stump in the road, the very first thing." "I shan't admit it," she said half-defiantly. "I am going to make you like the Farleys." He shook his head again. "You'll have to make a Christian of me first, and teach me how to love my enemies."
But Tom was not degenerate, even in the sense of those who thought he should have called out and shot the younger of the Farleys. It was in him to kill or be killed, quite in the traditional way: that grim gift is in the blood as the wine is in the grape to stay unless you shall water it to extinction with many base inbreedings. Nor was the spur lacking.
The Dabneys and the Farleys made one party, and Japheth knew the steamer and the sailing date. "Party will sail by White Star Line Baltic, New York, to-morrow. New York address, Fifth Avenue Hotel.
Once safe below the crest, he sprinted after Slade at top speed. He was under cover until he leaped the inlet canal and skirted along the natural rock rim on the far side of the reservoir. The problem now was to find a sheltered way from the brink of the rim over and down into the Farleys' kitchen garden. Slade had somehow made the crossing. He was safe in a position of vantage at the goat pens.
The Farleys were said to be rich and steadily growing richer not out of Chiawassee Iron, to be sure, but in others of their multifarious out-reachings; very good, he would be rich, too. What a Duxbury Farley could do, he would do; on a larger scale and with a stubborner patience. He
But later on there had been other steps: a growing hunger for success with self-respect kept whole; a dulling of the sharp edge of his hatred for the Farleys; a meliorating of his fierce contempt for all the hypocrites, conscious and subconscious. With the changing point of view had come a corresponding change in the life.
With an upturned box for a seat, the stub of pencil he always carried sharpened to a pin point by his knife, he steadied the table on the windowsill, and sat down to write to Pancha. He wrote the word "Farleys" at the top of the sheet, as he knew she would see the Farleys postmark, but the date he omitted: "MY DEARY PANCHITA: "Farleys "Here's the old man writing to you from Farleys.
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