But your shadow I am going to be, Mr. Farrell; and ever, when
you have hit a place in the sun, it shall be to start and find
me--a faithful hound at your side. I have put the fear on you,
I see. Waking or sleeping you shall never put that fear off.
. . . And now,' said I, rising and tapping another cigarette on
my case, 'let me steer you back to the railway-station.
You will prefer to dine alone to-night and think out your plans.
I shall be thinking out mine at the _Ambassadeurs_.'"
"So that's how it happened, Roddy. You might post me 100 pounds
to the Grand Hotel, Biarritz: for I'm running short. The hunt
is up, and he's breaking for South."
"J. F."
NIGHT THE ELEVENTH.
SCIENCE OF THE CHASE.
I'm an imperfect Christian: but I read Jack's long letter three times
over, and at each reading I liked it the less. Before posting an
answer I handed the thing to Jimmy; who spent a morning over it,
helping himself--a sure sign of a troubled spirit--to tobacco
indifferently from his own jar and mine.
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