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Frederic, Harold, 1856-1898

"The Market-Place"


"If I let you out in this way--something, of course,
you could never have dreamed would happen--you must
do some things for me. I should want you, for example,
to go back to Mexico at once. Of course, I'd pay
your expenses out. Or say, I'd give you a round four
thousand pounds to cover that and some other things too.
You wouldn't object to that, would you?"
The man who, two hours before, had confronted existence
with the change of his last five-pound note in his pocket,
did not hesitate now. "Oh no, that would be all right,"
with reviving animation, he declared. He helped himself
again from the cut-glass decanter. "What would you want me
to do there?"
"Oh, a report on the concession for a starter," Thorpe answered,
with careful indifference. "I suppose they still know your
name as an authority. I could make that all right anyway.
But one thing I ought to speak of--it might be rather
important--I wouldn't like to have you mention to anybody
that the concession has at any time been yours.
That might tend to weaken the value of your report,
don't you see? Let it be supposed that the concession has
been my property from the start. You catch my point,
don't you? There never was any such thing as a transfer
of it to you. It's always been mine!"
Tavender gave his benefactor a purblind sort of wink.


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