"
"But if he had no choice?"
"No choice, your Excellency?" protested the Jew, in a rasping
voice, "did I not repeat to him a dozen times, that my horse and cart
would take him quicker, and more comfortably than Reuben's bag of
bones. He would not listen. Reuben is such a liar, and has such
insinuating ways. The stranger was deceived. If he was in a hurry,
he would have had better value for his money by taking my cart."
"You have a horse and cart too, then?" asked Chauvelin, peremptorily.
"Aye! that I have, your Excellency, and if your Excellency wants
to drive. . ."
"Do you happen to know which way my friend went in Reuben Goldstein's cart?"
Thoughtfully the Jew rubbed his dirty chin. Marguerite's heart was
beating well-nigh to bursting. She had heard the peremptory question;
she looked anxiously at the Jew, but could not read his face beneath
the shadow of his broad-brimmed hat. Vaguely she felt somehow as if
he held Percy's fate in his long dirty hands.
There was a long pause, whilst Chauvelin frowned impatiently
at the stooping figure before him: at last the Jew slowly put his hand
in his breast pocket, and drew out from its capacious depths a number
of silver coins.
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