seldom that the luck is more with the law than with the criminal. It
took the parish of St. Saviour's so long to make up its mind who stole
Jean Jacques' six thousand dollars, that when the hounds got the scent at
last the quarry had reached the water--in other words, Sebastian Dolores
had achieved the St. Lawrence. The criminal had had near a day's start
before a telegram was sent to the police at Montreal, Quebec, and other
places to look out for the picaroon who had left his mark on the parish
of St. Saviour's. The telegram would not even then have been sent had it
not been for M. Fille, who, suspecting Sebastian Dolores, still refrained
from instant action. This he did because he thought Jean Jacques would
not wish his beloved Zoe's grandfather sent to prison. But when other
people at last declared that it must have been Dolores, M. Fille insisted
on telegrams being sent by the magistrate at Vilray without Jean Jacques'
consent. He had even urged the magistrate to "rush" the wire, because it
came home to him with stunning force that, if the money was not
recovered, Jean Jacques would be a beggar. It was better to jail the
father-in-law, than for the little money-master to take to the road a
pauper, or stay on at St. Saviour's as an underling where he had been
overlord.

As for Jean Jacques, in his heart of hearts he knew who had robbed him.
He realized that it was one of the radii of the comedy-tragedy which
began on the Antoine, so many years before; and it had settled in his
mind at last that Sebastian Dolores was but part of the dark machinery
of fate, and that what was now had to be.

For one whole day after the robbery he was like a man paralysed--
dispossessed of active being; but when his creditors began to swarm, when
M. Mornay sent his man of business down to foreclose his mortgages before
others could take action, Jean Jacques waked from his apathy. He began