He had no psychological sense, and Carnac had big
endowment of it. Yet Carnac was not demonstrative. It was his quiet
way that played his game for him. He never spoke, if being could do what
he wanted. He had the sense of physical speech with out words. He was a
bold adventurer, but his methods were those of the subtlest. If a motion
of the hand was sufficient, then let it go at that.
"You people after our votes never come any other time," sneeringly said
Eugene Grandois, as Carnac and Fabian landed. "It's only when you want
to use us."
"Would you rather I didn't come at all?" asked Carnac with a friendly
smile. "You can't have it both ways. If I came here any other time
you'd want to know why I didn't stay away, and I come now because it's
good you should know if I'm fit to represent you in Parliament."
"There's sense, my bonny boy," said an English-Canadian labourer standing
near. "What you got to say to that, little skeezicks?" he added
teasingly to Eugene Grandois.
"He ain't got more gifts than his father had, and we all know what he
was--that's so, bagosh!" remarked Grandois viciously.
"Well, what sort of a man was he?" asked Carnac cooly, with a warning
glance at Fabian, who was resentful. Indeed, Fabian would have struck
the man if his brother had not been present, and then been torn to pieces
himself.
"What sort--don't you know the kind of things he done? If you don't, I
do, and there's lots of others know, and don't you forget it, mon vieux.
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