Спрут: Калифорнийская история
Chapter VII
Thatsortoftalkwaswellenoughonce,butitdon’tgoanymore.Wewantayesornoanswer.”
Itwasgone—thatold-timepowerofmastery,thatfacultyofcommand.Thegroundcrumbledbeneathhisfeet.Longsinceithadbeen,byhisownhand,undermined.Authoritywasgone.Whykeepupthismiserableshamanylonger?Couldtheynotreadthelieinhisface,inhisvoice?Whatafollytomaintainthewretchedpretence!Hehadfailed.Hewasruined.Harranwasgone.Hisranchwouldsoongo;hismoneywasgone.Lymanwasworsethandead.Hisownhonourhadbeenprostituted.Gone,gone,everythinghehelddear,gone,lost,andsweptawayinthatfiercestruggle.Andsuddenlyandallinamomentthelastremainingshellsofthefabricofhisbeing,theshamthathadstoodalreadywonderfullylong,crackedandcollapsed.
“WastheCommissionhonestlyelected?”insistedGarnett.“Werethedelegates—didyoubribethedelegates?”
“Wewereobligedtoshutoureyestomeans,”falteredMagnus.“Therewasnootherwayto—”Thensuddenlyandwiththelastdregsofhisresolution,heconcludedwith:“Yes,Igavethemtwothousanddollarseach.”
“Oh,hell!Oh,myGod!”exclaimedKeast,sittingswiftlydownupontheraggedsofa.
Therewasalongsilence.Asenseofpoignantembarrassmentdescendeduponthosepresent.Nooneknewwhattosayorwheretolook.Garnett,withalabouredattemptatnonchalance,murmured:
“Isee.Well,that’swhatIwastryingtogetat.Yes,Isee.”
“Well,”saidGethingsatlength,bestirringhimself,“IguessI’LLgohome.”
Therewasamovement
