"It seems to me all big men are like that," Jowett rejoined; "and he's
the biggest man the West has seen. He knows about every man's business as
though it was his own. I can get a margin off most any man in the West on
a horse-trade, but I'd look shy about doing a trade with him. You can't
dope a horse so he won't know. He's on to it, sees it-sees it like as if
it was in glass. Sees anything and everything, and--" He stopped short.
The Master Gorgio could no longer see, and his henchman flushed like a
girl at his "break"; though, as a horse-dealer, he had in his time
listened without shame to wilder, angrier reproaches than most men
living.
She glanced at him, saw his confusion, forgave and understood him.
"It was not the horseshoe, it was not the Gipsy," she returned. "They did
not set it going. It would not have happened but for one man."
"Yes, it's Marchand, right enough," answered Jowett, "but we'll get him
yet. We'll get him with the branding-iron hot."
"That will not put things right if--" she paused, then with a great
effort she added: "Does the doctor think he will get it back and that--"
She stopped suddenly in an agitation he did not care to see and he turned
away his head.
"Doctor doesn't know," he answered.
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