It would seem that a student of human nature, such as every successful
writer should be, might by this time have arrived at some conception of
my client's character, simple as it was, and have learned to overlook the
slight peculiarity in his mode of expressing himself. But here the
Celebrity fell short, if my client's emotions were not pitched in the
same key as those of other people, who shall say that his heart was not
as large or his sympathies as wide as many another philanthropist?
But Mr. Cooke was an optimist, and as such disposed to look at the best
side of his friends and ignore the worst; if, indeed, he perceived their
faults at all. It was plain to me, even now, that he did not comprehend
the Celebrity's attitude. That his guest should reject the one hope of
escape left him was, according to Mr. Cooke, only to be accounted for by
a loss of mental balance. Nevertheless, his disappointment was keen. He
let down the door and slowly led the way out of the cabin. The whistle
sounded shrilly in our ears.
Mr. Cooke sat down and drew a wallet from his pocket. He began to count
the bills, and, as if by common consent, the Four followed suit. It was
a task which occupied some minutes, and when completed my client produced
a morocco note-book and a pencil. He glanced interrogatively at the man
nearest him.
"Three hundred and fifty."
Mr. Cooke put it down. It was entirely a matter of course.
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