Even lacking explanations, or attempt at them, I knew that he
had told the truth without flattery. He had wanted to stay, yet he had
gone. And he said that perhaps I might never see him again! If I could
have had my choice last night, whether to have the Boy lopped off my
life, or to lose a hand, the probabilities are that I would have
sacrificed the hand. But I had been offered no choice.
I recalled our parting, and found new meaning in the words he had
spoken at his door. There was no doubt about it; even then he had
decided to break away from me.
I realised this, and at the same instant rebelled against the
decision. I determined not to accept it. He had vanished because of
the two Americans; exactly why, I could not even guess, but I was
certain that the reason was not to his discredit. To theirs, perhaps,
but not to his. Nevertheless, they were somehow to blame for my loss,
and if the young men had appeared at this moment, I should have been
impelled to do them a mischief.
The principal thing was, however, not to let them cheat me irrevocably
of my comrade. I would not depend solely upon that hint about Monte
Carlo. I would find out where he had gone, and I would follow. Let him
be angry if he would. His anger, though a hot flame while it burned,
never endured long.
"Did Monsieur leave here by rail?" I enquired of Innocentina.
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