He went inside, and the ancient
clock-mender looked up from his work, for he was always working.
He rose wearily and asked what he could do for his customer. His eyes
were bothering him, so the fact that the man was a Gipsy did not at
first impress him.
The Gipsy smiled mysteriously and laid a hand on his heart.
"Who are you?" sharply demanded the clock-mender.
"Who I am does not matter. I am he whom you seek."
"God in Heaven!" The bony hands of the clock-mender shot out and
clutched the other's coat in a grip which shook, so intense was it. The
Gipsy released himself slowly. "But first show me your pretty crowns and
the paper which will give me immunity from the police. I know something
about you. You never break your word. That is why I came. Your crowns,
as you offered, and immunity; then I speak."
"Man, I can give you the crowns, but God knows I have no longer the
power to give you immunity."
"So?"
The Gipsy shouldered his bundle.
"For God's sake, wait!" begged the clock-mender.
But the Gipsy walked out, unheeding.
CHAPTER XVIII
A WHITE SCAR
Two days later, in the afternoon.
"Grumbach," said Carmichael, "what the deuce were you looking at the
other night, with those opera-glasses?"
"At the ball?" Grumbach pressed down the ash in his pipe and brushed his
thumb on his sleeve.
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