It was not difficult to get on his trade, even though the village
people were constitutionally reluctant to let any unnecessary
information get away from them. A mile or so farther up the shore,
beyond the road that ran like a scar across the hill to the granite
quarry, Chamberlain came upon a saloon masquerading as a grocery store.
A lodging house, a seaman's Bethel and the Reading-room were grouped
near by; the telegraph office, too, had been placed at this end of the
town; obviously for the convenience of the operators of the granite
quarry. The settlement had the appearance of easy-going and pleasant
industry peculiar to places where handwork is still the rule.
Chamberlain applied first at the grocery store without getting
satisfaction. The foreign looking boy, who was the only person
visible, could give him no information about anything. But at the
Reading-room the erstwhile yacht-owner was known. Borrowing money is a
sure method of impressing one's personality.
The Frenchman had been in the neighborhood two or three days, latterly
becoming very impatient for a reply to his New York telegram. A good
deal of money had been applied for, was the opinion of the
money-lender. This person, caretaker and librarian, was a tall,
ineffective individual, with eyes set wide apart. His slow speech was
a mixture of Doctor Johnson and a judge in chancery. It was
grandiloquent, and it often took long to reach the point. He informed
Chamberlain, with some circumlocution, that the Frenchman had been
extremely anxious over the telegram.
"I tried to persuade him that it was useless to be impatient over such
things," said he. "And I regret to say that the man allowed himself to
become profane."
"I dare say."
"But it would appear that he has received his telegram by this time,"
continued the youth, "for it is now but a short time since he was
summoned to the station."
Chamberlain, thinking that the sooner he got to the telegraph station
the better, was about to depart, when the placid tones of the librarian
again casually broke the silence.
"If I mistake not, the gentleman in question is even now hastening
toward the village." He waved a vague hand toward the open door
through which, a little distance away, a man's figure could be seen.
"Why don't you run after him and get your money?" asked Chamberlain;
but he didn't know the youth.
"What good would that do?" was the surprising question, which
Chamberlain could not answer.
But the Englishman acted on a different principle. He thanked the
judge in chancery and made after the Frenchman, who was casting a
furtive eye in this and that direction, as if in doubt which way he
ought to go. Nevertheless, he seemed bent on going, and not too
slowly, either.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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