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Far Country, a — Volume 3 by Winston Churchill
page 23 of 236 (09%)
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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