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Smith, Francis Hopkinson, 1838-1915

"Peter: a novel of which he is not the hero"


This time the unexpected took shape in the person of T.
Ballantree, from Morfordsburg--a plain, direct, straight-to-the-
point kind of a man, whom Jack found in the corridor of the Astor
House with his eyes on the clock.
"You are very prompt, Mr. Breen," he said in clear-cut tones, "so
am I. What I wanted to see you about is just this: You own some
ore property three miles east of the Maryland Mining Company's
lay-out. Am I right?"
"Yes, you are right," answered Jack with a comprehensive glance
which began at the speaker's black derby hat, traversed his suit
of store clothes, and ended in a pair of boots which still showed
some traces of yellow clay, as if their wearer had been
prospecting the day before.
"Are there any encumbrances on the property--any mortgages or
liens not yet recorded? I don't mean taxes; I find they have been
paid," continued Ballantree.
Jack shifted his seat so he could get a better view of the
speaker's face, and said in answer:
"Why do you ask?"
"Because," said the man with entire frankness, "we understand that
the Maryland Mining Company have an option on it.


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