The World for Sale, Complete

by's door, and was admitted by the mulatto man-servan

individual tastes; valeted him, kept his cigars within a certain prescribed limit by a firm actuarial principle which transferred any surplus to his own

over the new railway in Ingolby's private car, he said, "I called him what everybody called him. I called him 'Succelency.'" And "Succelency" for ever after the Governor General was called in the West. Jim's phonetic mouthful gave the West a roar of laughter and a new word to the language. On another occasion Jim gave the West a new phrase to its vocabulary which remains to this day. Having to take the wife of a high personage of the neighbouri

, Jim, we don't-" Ingolby pro

for them finger-bowls-she'll ask for 'e

aid of any woman who put on airs and wanted wha

. He was prepared to turn the visitor away, no matter what he wanted, but Ingolby's card handed to him by the Romany made him pause. He had never known his master give a card like that more than once or twice in the yea

tle while back. You got to wait," he added sulkily,

Instantly he got between the visitor and the make-up. The parcel was closed when he was in the room a half-hour b

disguise. Then he raised them in his arms, and passed w

alse beard, and workman's clothes! What were they for? Were these disguises for the Master Gorgio? Was he to wear them? If

ght mood. He was ready for any illusion, s

this was the way the swagge

ter-colours done by Ingolby's own hand or bought by him from some hard-up artist earning his way mile by mile, as it were. Here were books, not many, but well-bound and important-looking, covering fields in which Jet

r the weapons, and, in imagination, he had each one in his hand. From the pained, angry confusion he felt when he looked at the books had emerged a feeling of fanaticism, of feud and war, in which his spirit regained its own kind of self-respect. In looking at the weapons he was as good a man as any Gorgio. Brains and books were one thing, but the strong arm, the quick eye, and the deft lunge home with the sword or dagger

lay the fiddle in Turin, and the memory of it was like the sun on the clouds to him now. In music such of him as was real found a home. It fed everything in him-his passion, his vanity; his vagabond taste, his emotions, his self-indulgence, his lust. It was

never played before. He would pour the soul of his purpose into the musi

the chair to go to the violin, but as he d

longing to get at it

noted which way his footsteps were tending. "Well, we needn't lose

of cigars and cigarettes flanked them. It was the height of modern luxury imported from New York, and Jethro eyed it with envious inward comment.

t he had not yet made his bed in it, and there was st

k much when I play," he remarked. "There's enough liquor in the head when the

as well as you did this afternoon," Ingolby sai

s violin-well

it is Sarasate's v

, but that doesn't mean that you're an Egy

nguages. I do not like the Mister. It is ugly in the ear. Monsi

to pay me

Sarasate

of things I co

o without th

ou play it, Mr.-what i

is Jeth

any 'chal', you shall show

" Jethro asked, as Ingolby

e-just a

udden savage rage in Jethro's heart, f

g and forget anything." Ingolby sighed. "But that doesn't matter,

. "This ought to do a bit more than th

I can wait," he added graciously. "If you like the cigarettes, you must take some away with you. You don't drink much,

thing in him? "Dago," as he called the Romany inwardly, there was still a bond between them. They understood the glory of a little instrument like this, and could

meant to do so. He puffed the cigarette an instant longer, then threw it

Jim. Jim's a hard master, too. He'd give me fits

refuse into

roceeded. He handed the fiddle over. "Here's the little thing

r and see comfortably; yet he had the musician's love of the perfect instrument, and the woods and the streams and the sounds of night and the whisperings of trees and the ghost

?" he asked as he

; something you'd play for yourself if you were out

-Eastern races. By an effort of the will they send through the nerves a flood of feeling which is half-anaesthetic, half-intoxicant. Carried into its fullest expression it drives a man amok or makes of him a howling dervish, a fanatic, or a Shakir. In lesser intensity it produces the

, for an instant, he ran hither and thither on the strings testing the quality and finding the range and c

Romany lowered the bow. "Paganini-Joachim-Sarasate-any

nough for you

to the Romany's face, and the bow twitched in his hand. He was not P

ddle than Sarasate ever could, in your own sort of music anyhow. I've never heard any one play half so well the kind of piece you pl

es it," was the Romany's response. He wa

eturned to fix themselves on Ingolby with the veiled look which sees but does not see-such a look as an oracle, or a death-god, or a soul

ive with quarrelling! and affrighted beasts. It was a place where birds sang divinely, yet where obscene fowls of prey hovered in the blue or waited by the dying denizens of the desert or the plain; where dark-eyed women heard, with sidelong triumph, the whispers of passion; where sweet-faced children fled in fear from terrors undefined; where harpies

no improvisation, but musical legends and classic fantasies and folk-breathings and histories of anguished or joyous haters or lovers of life; treated by the impressionist who made that which had been in other scenes to other me

which spoke through the music, and drowned the joy and radiance and almost ghostly and grotesque frivolity of the earlier passages; but it had no personal meaning to him, though at times it seemed when the Romany came near and ben

n hour, that there came to Ingolby the true interpretation of the Romany mutterings through

an should have any intentions against him, he could not guess, except that he might be one of the madmen who have a vendetta against the capitalist. Or was he a tool of Felix Marchand? It did not seem possible, and yet if the man was penniles

quiver and delicate shrillness of one isolated string-and then fell a sudden silence, as though the end of all things had come; and on the silence th

de him seem taller and bigger than he was, but gave him, too, a look of debauchery like that on the face of a sa

oolly. "I know there was catastrophe, the tumblings of avala

ce. "It was the soul of one that betra

sate would have been proud of his fiddle if he could have he

c of a 'Gipsy,'

by replied admiringly, yet acutely conscious of

rpose other than to get a pipe from the rack on the wall, Ingolby moved to where he could be prepared for a

he asked as he filled a pipe,

et what belo

f us are here for that purpose. We

what is

his eyes reflectivel

it again out h

t, but

oked at it. "I haven't found it ea

ing what belongs to some one e

r-market price or 'founder's shares'"-he smiled grimly. "You've given me the best treat I've had in many a day. I'd walk fifty miles to hear you play my Sarasate-or even old Berry's cotton-field fiddle. I'm as grateful as I can be, and I'd lik

e, that he was wholly misreading the man; but he had always trusted his instincts, and he would not let his reason rule him entirely in such a situation. He

s the spirit-table, and Ingolb

some influence out here-what can I do? A stranger is up against all kinds of things i

nside his tent. Because his country is everywhere and nowhere, his home is more to him than it is to any other. He is alone with his wife, and with his

bout to hear what would startle him, but he persisted. "You

cting a part, as he had ever done in his life, and that the man before him could, with a wave of the hand, raise the curtain on all his disguises and pretences. It was only for an instant, however, for there swept through him the feeling that Fleda had roused in him-the fir

the instant his veins filled with passionate blood. The

wife from me. 'Mi Duvel', you have taken, but you shall give back again, or there will be only one of us in the world! The music I have played for you-that has told you all: the thin

had admitted no love, and yet already in his heart of hearts he thought upon her as his own. Ever since the day he had held her in his arms at the Carillon Rapids her voice had sounded in his ears, and a warmth was in his heart which had never been there in all his days. This waif of barbarism e

piercing. "Gabriel Druse's daughter is not-never was-any wife of yours. Sh

d caught him, and he was hurled across the room. He crashed against a table, swayed, missed a chair where res

d have hurt you, Mr. Fawe," Ingolby said with a grim

el!" gasped the R

our monkey tricks here, my Paganini, I will wring your neck," Ingolb

your own, I'll keep my word. But don't talk in damned riddles. Talk white men's language. Y

el Fawe, rightful King of all the Romanys. Gabriel Druse seized the headship, and my father gave him three thousand pounds that we should marry, she

omentary advantage. "You did not know?" he asked. "She did not tell you she was made my wife those years ago? Sh

uch your wife as I am your brother. Don't talk your heathenish rot here. I said I'd help you to get your own, because you played the fiddle as few men can play it, and I owe

usand dollars' worth of this man's property at a single wrench and blow. But the spirit of the musician asserted itself before the vengeful lover could carry out his purpose; as Ingolby felt sure it would. Ingolby had purposely given the warning about the fiddle,

guise of a rival to himself! It was humiliating and offensive. Ingolby had his own kind of pride and vanity, and they were both hurt now. He would have been less irri

ked at the fiddle for an instant with murderous eyes, but the coo

e-packet from the skies," Ingolby said. "When you get a good musician

had suffered the indignity of being flung like a bag of bones across the room, and the microbe of insane revenge

it is so. I have waited all these y

at she doesn't want to do in a free country. The lady is free to do what she pleases here within British law, and British law takes no heed

you," the Romany said

t if I do, and she said yes

d preve

ow

elongs to the Romany pe

a flash of

morra would not be more certain or more deadly. If you do anything to hurt the daughter of Gabriel Druse,

ir rightf

got no standing in this country. You can't do anything to hurt me except try to kill me, and I'll take my chance of that. You'd better have a drink now and go quietly home to bed. Try and understand that this is a British town, and we don't s

then shook his head an

nd, in an instant, Jim Beadle was in the room. He had evidentl

got this side of Havana," he said cheerily. "They'll help you put more fancy still into your playing. Good night. You ne

egy of the thing, by the superior force and mind of the man who a moment ago he would h

he mulatto servant's face, his rage and understanding ret

n the floor of the room. Ingolby was not perturbed. "Don't forget there's an east-

om. "Get the clothes and the wig and

out the clothes having been exposed in the room when the Romany arrived. "But I don't think he seen them," J

tter. That fellow's got other

was waiting outside in the darknes