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“I am astounded, sir,” Will said, “it seems almost impossible that I can be master of so much money.” “You have the satisfaction at any rate, Mr. Gilmore, of knowing that you have earned it by your own exertions, courage, and skill. I think now that it is only fair that I should send you back to your ship when she next comes in, and give someone else a chance.”
“This is the glass, sir,” the lawyer said. “My clerk redeemed it after telling her that her lodger had died long ago. He went round to St. Matthew’s Church and obtained the certificate of the child’s baptism. So I think now, Mr. Gilmore, that we have all the evidence that can be required. Mrs.
"If it be strong and harsh I can't sleep a wink," he said. The tea was brought, and sipped very leisurely. There was then a word or two said about certain German baths from which Mr. Chamberlaine had just returned; and Mr. Gilmore began to believe that he should not be asked to say anything about Mary Lowther that night. But the Fates were not so kind.
Miss Marrable, after waiting for half a minute to consider, determined that she would tell him something. "No doubt," she said, "Captain Marrable's income is so small that the match is one that Mary's friends cannot approve." "I don't think much of money," he said. "Still it is essential to comfort, Mr. Gilmore."
A moment later, however, he opened it to admit Doctor Taylor, the coroner, and Conklin, the sheriff. The latter instantly set about clearing the room. Gilmore and the colonel remained with the officials and during the succeeding ten minutes the gambler, who had kept his post at the door, opened, it to Moxlow, young Watt Harbison and two policemen.
These he brought to the center-table, where he leisurely poured his unwilling guest a drink. "Here, you old sot, soak this up!" he said genially. "Boss, I want to go home to my old woman!" began the handy-man, after he had emptied his glass. "Your old woman will keep!" retorted Gilmore shortly. "But, boss, I got to go to her; the judge says I must!
Closing the door Joe Montgomery slipped off one patched and ragged cloth mitten and removed his battered cap. "Well, what the devil do you want?" demanded Gilmore sharply. Joe, shuffling and shambling, edged toward the grate. "Boss, I want to drop a word with you!" he said in a husky voice.
Gilmore had quitted the McBride cottage some three hours before, and in the interim had breakfasted well and napped abstemiously. Presently he must repair to the court-house, where, it had already been intimated, the coroner might wish to confer with him. Marshall Langham he had not seen.
They lie on rude and unexpected granite shelves, as Le Conte Lake; under the shadow of towering peaks, as Gilmore Lake; on bald glacier-gouged and polished tables, as those of Desolation Valley; embosomed in deep woods, as Fallen Leaf, Heather and Cascade; in the rocky recesses of sloping canyons, as Susie, Lucile and the Angoras; hidden in secret recesses of giant granite walls, as Eagle; or sprawling in the open, as Loon, Spider, etc.
The wonderful accuracy with which General Gilmore sent those immense projectiles into any part of the city, from his batteries on Morris Island, five miles away, was simply astonishing.
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