Far Country, a — Volume 3 by Winston Churchill
page 23 of 236 (09%)
page 23 of 236 (09%)
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corner, and after rummaging for a few moments in one of the pigeon-holes,
drew forth a glass cylinder, which he held out as he approached me. "You get it, Mr. Paret," he said. "What is it?" I asked, "a bomb!" "That," he announced, as he twisted the tube about in his long fingers, holding it up to the light, "is the finest brand of cigars ever made in Cuba. A gentleman who had every reason to be grateful to me--I won't say who he was--gave me that once. Well, the Lord made me so's I can't appreciate any better tobacco than those five-cent 'Bobtails' Monahan's got downstairs, and I saved it. I saved it for the man who would put something over me some day, and--you get it." "Thank you," I said, unconsciously falling in with the semi-ceremony of his manner. "I do not flatter myself that the solution I have suggested did not also occur to you." "You'll smoke it?" he asked. "Surely." "Now? Here with me?" "Certainly," I agreed, a little puzzled. As I broke the seal, pulled out the cork and unwrapped the cigar from its gold foil he took a stick and rapped loudly on the floor. After a brief interval footsteps were heard on the stairs and Mike Monahan, white aproned and scarlet faced, appeared at the door. |
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