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Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips), 1866-1946

"A Millionaire of Yesterday"

... I remember it all now. You were gambling with poor
old Monty for his daughter's picture against a bottle of brandy."
Trent winced a little.
"You have an excellent memory," he said drily.
Francis raised himself a little, and a fiercer note crept into his
tone.
"It is coming back to me," he said. "I remember more about you now,
Scarlett Trent. You are the man who left his partner to die in a
jungle, that you might rob him of his share in the concession. Oh
yes, you see my memory is coming back! I have an account against
you, my man."
"It's a lie!" said Trent passionately. "When I left him, I honestly
believed him to be a dead man."

"How many people will believe that?" Francis scoffed. "I shall
take Monty with me to England. I have finished with this country
for awhile - and then - and then - "
He was exhausted, and sank back speechless. Trent sat and watched
him, smoking in thoughtful silence. They two were a little apart
from the others, and Francis was fainting. A hand upon his throat
- a drop from that phial in the medicine-chest - and his faint
would carry him into eternity. And still Trent sat and smoked.

CHAPTER XXVI

It was Trent himself who kept watch through that last long hour of
moonlit darkness till the wan morning broke.


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