This is the way he put it: "That man--we will just miss finding him,
as I missed Zoe at the railroad junction when she went away, as I missed
catching Carmen at St. Chrisanthine. When you are at the shore, he will
be on the river; when you are getting into the train, he will be getting
out. It is the custom of the family. At Bordeaux, the Spanish
detectives were on the shore gnashing their teeth, when he was a hundred
yards away at sea on the Antoine. They missed him like that; and we'll
miss him too. What is the good! It was not his fault--that was the way
of his bringing up beyond there at Cadiz, where they think more of a
toreador than of John the Baptist. It was my fault. I ought to have
banked the money. I ought not to have kept it to look at like a gamin
with his marbles. There it was in the wall; and there was Dolores a long
way from home and wanting to get back. He found the way by a gift of the
tools; and I wish I had the same gift now; for I've got no other gift
that'll earn anything for me."
These were the last dark or pessimistic words spoken at St. Saviour's by
Jean Jacques; and they were said to the Clerk of the Court, who could not
deny the truth of them; but he wrung the hand of Jean Jacques
nevertheless, and would not leave him night or day.
Pages:
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84