Short stories, American; United States -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction
“Now I want to tell you something more, Miss Carle--if that’s your real
name--” Gregory went on as she was putting her hands to her temples and
exclaiming, and she winced again. “As I said before, you don’t look to
me to be as bad as you seem, and for that reason I’m talking to you
now. But just see how it is: Here I am, a young man just starting out
in the world really, and here you are trying to ruin me. I was living
here with my wife and my little two-year-old baby peacefully enough
until she had to go to the mountains because our little boy was taken
sick, and then you and Mrs. Skelton and Diamondberg and Castleman and
the ‘brokers’ and all the rest of the crowd that are and have been
around here watching and spying, came and began to cause me trouble.
Now I’m not helpless. And you needn’t think I wasn’t warned before you
came, because I was. There are just as many influential men on my side
of the fence right now as there are on Tilney’s--will be--and he isn’t
going to get away with this thing as easily as he thinks. But just
think of your part in all this! Why should you want to ruin me or help
these people? What have I ever done to you? I can understand Tilney’s
wanting to do it. He thinks that I have facts which will injure him,
and I have, and that because I haven’t made any public statement the
evidence is still in my hands, and that if I am put out of the way or
discredited the whole thing will blow over and nothing will happen to
him--but it won’t. Not now any more. It can’t. This thing will go
on just the same, whether I am here or not. But that isn’t the point
either. I was told two months ago that you would come, not by Mrs.
Skelton, but by friends of mine, and that an attempt would be made on
my life,” and at that she opened her eyes wide and sat there apparently
amazed, “and here you are on schedule time and doing just as you were
told, and apparently you aren’t the least bit ashamed to do it. But
don’t you think it’s a pretty shabby game for you to play?” He stared
at her wearily and she at him, but now for the moment she said nothing,
just sat there.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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