The Man in Black | Page 5

did this afternoon, nor a bit that pays as well."
"Who taught it him?" the stranger asked.
"I did."
"That is a lie," the other answered in a perfectly unmoved tone. "If you
like I will tell you what you did. You taught him the latter half of the
story. The other he knew before: down to the word' province'."
The showman gasped. "Diable!" he muttered. "Who told you?"
"Never mind. You bought the boy. From whom?"
"From some gypsies at the great fair of Beaucaire," the showman
answered sullenly.
"Who is he?"
Crafty Eyes laughed dryly. "If I knew I should not be padding the
hoof," he said. "Or, again, he may be nobody, and the tale patter. You
have heard as much as I have. What do you think?"
"I think I shall find out when I have bought the boy," the stranger
answered coolly. "What will you take for him?"
The showman gasped again. "You come to the point," he said.
"It is my custom. What is his price?"
The showman's imagination had never soared beyond nor his ears every
heard of a larger sum than a thousand crowns. He mentioned it
trembling. There might be such a sum in the world.
"A thousand livres, if you like. Not a sou more," was the answer.
The nearer lantern threw a strong light on Crafty Eyes' face; but that

was mere shadow beside the light of cupidity which sparkled in his
eyes. He could get another boy; scores of boys. But a thousand livres?
A thousand livres! "Tournois" he said faintly. "Livres Tournois!" In his
wildest moments of avarice he had never dreamed of possessing such a
sum.
"No, Paris livres," the stranger answered coldly. "Paid to-morrow at the
Golden Chariot. If you agree, you will deliver the boy to me there at
noon, and receive the money."
The showman nodded, vanquished by the mere sound of the sum. Paris
livres let it be. Danae did not more quickly succumb to the golden
shower.
Chapter II
Solomon Notredame
A little later that night, at the hour which saw the showman pay his
second visit to the street before the Chariot d'Or, there to stand gaping
at the lighted windows, and peering into the courtyard in a kind of
fascination--or perhaps to assure himself that the house would not fly
away, and his golden hopes with it--the twelve-year-old boy, the basis
of those hopes, awoke and stirred restlessly in the straw. He was cold,
and the chain galled him. His face ached where the man had struck him.
In the next stall two drunken men were fighting, and the place reeked
with oaths and foulness. But none of these things were so novel as to
keep the boy awake; and sighing and drawing the monkey nearer to
him, he would in a moment have been asleep again if the moon, shining
with great brightness through the little square aperture above him, had
not thrown its light directly on his head, and roused him more
completely.
He sat up and gazed at it, and God knows what softening thoughts and
pitiful recollections the beauty of the night brought into his mind; but
presently he began to weep--not as a child cries, with noise and wailing,
but in silence, as a man weeps. The monkey awoke and crept into his
breast, but he hardly regarded it. The misery, the hopelessness, the

slavery of his life, ignored from hour to hour, or borne at other times
with a boy's nonchalance, filled his heart to bursting now. Crouching in
his lair in the straw, he shook with agony. The tears welled up, and
would not be restrained, until they hid the face of the sky and darkened
even the moon's pure light.
Or was it his tears? He dashed them away and looked, and rose slowly
to his feet; while the ape, clinging to h is breast, began to mow and
gibber. A black mass, which gradually resolved itself, as the boy's eyes
cleared, into a man's hat and head, filled the aperture.
"Hush!" came from the head in a cautious whisper. "Come nearer. I
will not hurt you. Do you wish to escape, lad?" The boy clasped his
hands in an ecstasy. "Yes, oh yes!" he murmured. The question chimed
in so naturally with his thoughts, it scarcely surprised him.
"If you were loose, could you get through this window?" the man asked.
He spoke cautiously, under his breath; but the noise in the next stall, to
say nothing of a vile drinking song which was being chanted forth at
the farther end of the stables, was such he might safely have shouted.
"Yes? Then take this file. Rub at the fifth link from the end: the one
that is nearly through. Do you