"
"And what will it say if I do appoint him?"
"That he bought his first appointment from your wife."
The Governor stood silent, immovable, while the blood crept slowly
from his strong neck to his lowering brows. Once he laughed, then he
set his lips and continued to gaze into the fire. After a while he
looked at his cigar and shook the freshly formed cone of ashes
carefully upon the hearth. He had just turned again to Shackwell
when the door opened and the butler announced: "Mr. Fleetwood."
The room swam about Shackwell, and when he recovered himself,
Mornway, with outstretched hand, was advancing quietly to meet his
guest.
Fleetwood was a smaller man than the Governor. He was erect and
compact, with a face full of dry energy, which seemed to press
forward with the spring of his prominent features, as though it were
the weapon with which he cleared his way through the world. He was
in evening dress, scrupulously appointed, but pale and nervous. Of
the two men, it was Mornway who was the more composed.
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