"We'll fix the whole thing. All the special constables are
waiting there with the regular police. An extra foot on a captain's
shoulders is as good as a battery of guns."
"You're sure it's according to Hoyle?" asked Jowett quizzically.
He was so delighted that he felt he must "make the Mayor show off self,"
as he put it afterwards. He did not miscalculate; the Mayor rose to his
challenge.
"I'm boss of this show," he said, "and I can go it alone if necessary
when the town's in danger and the law's being hustled. I've had a
meeting of the Council and I've got the sailing-orders I want. I'm boss
of the place, and Mr. Druse is my--" he stopped, because there was a look
in the eyes of the Ry which demanded consideration--"And Mr. Druse is
lawboss," he added.
The old ineradicable look of command shone in the eyes of Gabriel Druse.
Leadership was written all over him. Power spoke in every motion. The
square, unbowed shoulders, the heavily lined face, with the patriarchal
beard, the gnarled hands, the rough-hewn limbs, the eye of bright,
brooding force proclaimed authority.
Indeed in that moment there came into the face of the old Nomad the look
it had not worn for many a day.
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