"It is 'evil to him
who evil thinks.'"
"Perhaps, but I have improved upon it. I add, for your further
information, that I am your nearest neighbor. I occupy the magnificent
concrete parlor next door to you, where I live a life of undisturbed
ease, but I have concluded at last to visit you, and here I am. How I
came I will explain later. But I am glad I am with you. One crowded hour
of glorious company is worth a hundred years in a solitary cell. I may
have got that a little wrong, too, but it sounds well."
He sat down in Turkish fashion on the floor, folding a pair of extremely
long legs beneath him, and regarded Ned with a slow, quizzical smile.
For the life of him the boy could not keep from smiling back. With the
nearer view he could see now that the eyes were blue and honest.
"You may think I'm a Mexican," continued the man in his mellow, pleasant
voice, "but I'm not. I'm a Texan--by the way of Maine. As I told you, I
live in the next tomb, the one on the right. I'm a watch, clock and tool
maker by trade and a bookworm by taste. Because of the former I've come
into your cell, and because of the latter I use the ornate language that
you hear. But of both those subjects more further on. Meanwhile, I
suppose it's you who have been yelling in here at the top of your voice
and disturbing a row of dungeons accustomed to peace and quiet.
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