It would be easy enough to address her the
next time we met. Besides, she would be curious to know all about the
ten of hearts and the desperate adventure upon which I told her I was
about to embark. Many a fine friendship has grown out of smaller
things.
Next, turning from the window, I fell to examining my fellow
passengers, in the hope of seeing some one I knew. Conversation on
trains makes short journeys. . . . I sat up stiffly in my seat.
Diagonally across the aisle sat the very chap I had met in the
curio-shop! He was quietly reading a popular magazine, and
occasionally a smile lightened his sardonic mouth. Funny that I should
run across him twice in the same evening! Men who are contemplating
suicide never smile in that fashion. He was smoking a small,
well-colored meerschaum pipe with evident relish. Somehow, when a man
clenches his teeth upon the mouth-piece of a respectable pipe, it seems
impossible to associate that man with crime. But the fact that I had
seen him selecting a pistol in a pawnshop rather neutralized the good
opinion I was willing to form. I have already expressed my views upon
the subject. The sight of him rather worried me, though I could not
reason why. Whither was he bound? Had he finally taken one of
Friard's pistols? For a moment I was on the point of speaking to him,
if only to hear him tell more lies about the ten of hearts, but I
wisely put aside the temptation.
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