"The woman can't interest you now. Also you have money--his money.""Still I hate him.""You Greeks are like children. Your hatred is unreasonable; there is no cause for it.""Unreasonable and not to be reasoned away.""Well, why worry about him? He won't follow you to Benhur, I fancy.""It doesn't worry me generally; but when you mention him my hate springs up again. I forget him when I am by myself.""Forget him now."And they drank coffee in silence.
Darkness came on, and the blue night mist. Gregorio was impatient to see his son. He gazed intently at the door of the opposite house, little heeding madam, who was busy with preparations for the evening's entertainment of her customers. Suddenly he saw a woman leave the house, hail a passing carriage, and drive rapidly down the street toward the Place Mehemet Ali. Gregorio, with a cry of pleasure, rose and left the cafe. Madam Marx followed him to the door and called a good-night to him. Gregorio stood irresolutely in the middle of the road. He had promised the boy a boat, and he blamed himself for having forgotten to buy it. Grumbling at his forgetfulness, he hurried along the street, determined to waste no time. On occasions he could relinquish his lazy, slouching gait, and he would hurry always to obey the commands of the king his son. A pleasant smile at the thought of the pleasure his present would cause softened the sinister mould of his lips, and he sang softly to himself as he moved quickly cityward.
Before he had gone many yards an oath broke in upon the music, and he darted swiftly under the shadow of a wall; for coming forward him was Amos the Jew. But the old man's sharp eyes detected the victim, and, following Gregorio into his hiding-place, Amos laid his hand upon the Greek.
"Why do you try to hide when we have so much to say to one another?"Gregorio shook himself from the Jew's touch and professed ignorance of the necessity for speech.
"Come, come, my friend, the money you borrowed is still owing in part.""But you will be paid. We are saving money; we cannot put by all we earn--we must live.""I will be paid now; if I am not, you are to blame for the consequences."And with a courtly salute the Jew passed on. Now Gregorio had not forgotten his debt, nor the Jew's threats, and he fully intended to pay what he owed. But of course it would take time, and the man was too impatient. He realised he had been foolish not to pay something on account; but it hurt him to part with gold. He determined, however, to send Amos something when he returned home. So good a watch had been kept, he never doubted the child's safety. But it would be awkward if Amos got him put in jail. So he reckoned up how much he could afford to pay, and, having bought the toy, returned eagerly home. He ran upstairs, singing a barcarole at the top of his voice, and rushed into the room, waving the model ship above his head. "See here," he cried, "is the ship! I have not forgotten it." But his shout fell to a whisper. The room was empty.
With a heartbroken sob the man fell swooning on the floor.
IX
A DISCOVERY AND A CONSPIRACY
For long he lay stretched out upon the floor in a state of half-consciousness. He could hear the mosquitos buzzing about his face, he could hear, too, the sounds of life rise up from the street below; but he was able to move neither arm nor leg, and his head seemed fastened to the floor by immovable leaden weights. That his son was lost was all he understood.
How long he lay there he scarcely knew, but it seemed to him weeks. At last he heard footsteps on the stairs. He endeavoured vainly to raise himself, and, though he strove to cry out, his tongue refused to frame the words. Lying there, living and yet lifeless, he saw the door open and Amos enter. The old man hesitated a moment, for the room was dark, while Gregorio, who had easily recognised his visitor, lay impotent on the floor. Before Amos could become used to the darkness the door again opened, and Madam Marx entered with a lamp in her hand. Amos turned to see who had followed him, and, in turning, his foot struck against Gregorio's body. Immediately, the woman crying softly, both visitors knelt beside the sick man. A fierce look blazed in Gregorio's eyes, but the strong words of abuse that hurried through his brain would not be said.
"He is very ill," said Amos; "he has had a stroke of some sort.""Help me to carry him to my house," sobbed the woman, and she kissed the Greek's quivering lip and pallid brow. Then rising to her feet, she turned savagely on the Jew.
"It is your fault. It is you who have killed him.""Nay, madam; I had called here for my money, and I had a right to do so. It has been owing for a long time.""No; you have killed him.""Indeed, I wished him well. I was willing to forgive the debt if he would let me take the child."A horrid look of agony passed over Gregorio's face, but he remained silent and motionless. The watchers saw that he understood and that a tempest of wrath and pain surged within the lifeless body. They stooped down and carried him downstairs and across the road to the Penny-farthing Shop. The Jew's touch burned Gregorio like hot embers, but he could not shake himself free. When he was laid on a bed in a room above the bar, through the floor of which rose discordant sounds of revelry, Amos left them. Madam Marx flung herself on the bed beside him and wept.
Two days later Gregorio sat, at sunset, by Madam Marx's side, on the threshold of the cafe. He had recovered speech and use of limbs. With wrathful eloquence he had told his companion the history of the terrible night, and now sat weaving plots in his maddened brain.
Replying to his assertion that Amos was responsible, Madam Marx said:
"Don't be too impetuous, Gregorio. Search cunningly before you strike.
Maybe your wife knows something."
