Читать книгу Hard-Pan. A Story of Bonanza Fortunes онлайн

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A moment later the colonel entered. He was suave and smiling. There was nothing of the broken financier, the ruined millionaire, in his buoyant and almost patronizing manner. His old black coat, faded and many years behind the mode, but well brushed and carefully mended, was buttoned up closely, and still sat upon his thin but sinewy figure with something of its old-time elegance. In one hand he carried a little black lacquer cane.

Sitting down opposite John Gault, where the light of the long window fell full upon his face, he had all the assurance of manner of a man whose bonanza has not become a memory and a dream.

“I was going by, and I thought I’d drop in and pass the time of day,” he said. “Things aren’t as lively with me just now as they have been. It’s an off season.”

“It’s that with most of us,” said the other, regarding him intently and wondering what he had come for.

“All in the same coffin, are we?” said the colonel, airily. “I’m generally on the full jump down here of a morning; but lately—”