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"I can't prove what I say, that's the trouble; but McQuade has his hand in this. I wish to Heaven I could find solid proofs." "McQuade?" Bennington scowled. He could readily understand now. McQuade! This was McQuade's revenge. He could wait patiently all this while! "I'll do what I can, Mr. Bennington; I'll do what I can." Bennington ate no lunch that noon.
If I recollect, I ran across you once or twice when I was a newspaper man." McQuade's eyes narrowed again. "Personally, you are nothing to me," he replied; "politically, you are a meddler, and you are in my way." "Oh, I am in your way? That is to say, if I am elected, there'll be too much honesty in the City Hall to suit your plans? I can readily believe that.
Told me in the presence of witnesses, last election, that he'd give me a job on the new police board; and yet after election he put in one of those whipper-snappers who know nothing. Of course, you've been in town long enough to know that Donnelly is simply McQuade's creature. I never had any luck." "Oh, it may change by and by." Warrington, at that moment, felt genuinely sorry for the outcast.
"You've been away so long you haven't heard of him. He handles the dagos during election. Well, McQuade was asking all sorts of questions about you. Asked if you gambled, or drank, or ran around after women." Warrington no longer leaned back in his chair. His body assumed an alert angle. "They all went up to McQuade's office. The typewriter is a niece of mine.
But in the usual condition of those roads it is the first stopping-place from Winnipeg, and McQuade's, or "Little Pointe du Chene," as it is sometimes called, is familiar to all the engineers on the staff of that part of the Canada Pacific Railway.
There was a shadow; it would always walk between them. "Remember, Dick, Patty must never know anything of this. Nothing must come between her and my wife." "I shall say nothing to any one, John." Who had written to Patty? It took them a quarter of an hour to reach McQuade's office. Unfortunately for that gentleman, he was still in his office and alone.
And this remarkable plan of McQuade's was deranged by a chance guess by Patty. Meantime at Martin's it was growing lively. The bar was crowded, the restaurant was being liberally patronized, and persons went up the stairs that did not return. Jordan paid the check, and he and Osborne went out. "When'll they go out, Ben?" "Monday." "Too bad. I wish I'd been sober."
"No, I only capt took hold of the 'Blue M. freighters Morgan and McQuade's old line this summer." Disko collapsed where he sat, beside the stove. "Great Caesar Almighty! I mistrust I've been fooled from one end to the other. Why, Phil Airheart he went from this very town six year back no, seven an' he's mate on the San Jose now twenty-six days was her time out.
Crossing a broken culvert not half a mile from the house, one of the horses fell in, and we all had to get out and walk, an annoyance which we felt to be the "last straw" on our much-enduring backs. McQuade's is merely a farmhouse on the main road.
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.
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