fingers clutched the money; but it began cheerfully again when the door
in the wall closed once more.

Five minutes after Dolores had thrust the six thousand dollars into his
pocket, his horse was galloping away over the hills towards the River St.
Lawrence. If he had luck, he would reach it by the morning. As it
happened, he had the luck. Behind him, in the Manor Cartier, the man
who had had no luck and much philosophy, snored on till morning in
unconscious content.

It was a whole day before Jean Jacques discovered his loss. When he had
finished his lonely supper the next evening, he went to the cupboard in
his office to cheer himself with the sight of the six thousand dollars.
He felt that he must revive his spirits. They had been drooping all day,
he knew not why.

When he saw the empty pigeon-hole in the cupboard, his sight swam. It
was some time before it cleared, but, when it did, and he knew beyond
peradventure the crushing, everlasting truth, not a sound escaped him.
His heart stood still. His face filled with a panic confusion. He
seemed like one bereft of understanding.




CHAPTER XX

"AU 'VOIR, M'SIEU' JEAN JACQUES"

It is seldom that Justice travels as swiftly as Crime, and it is also