So far as Mr. Quest could see,
he appeared to be almost totally paralysed, with the exception of his
head, neck, and left arm, which he could still move a little. His
black eyes, however, were full of life and intelligence, and roamed
about the room without ceasing.
"How do you do, Mr. Quest?" he said; "sorry that I can't shake hands
with you but you see I have been stricken down, though my brain is
clear enough, clearer than ever it was, I think. And I ain't going to
die yet--don't think that I am, because I ain't. I may live two years
more--the doctor says I am sure to live one at least. A lot of money
can be made in a year if you keep your eyes open. Once I made a
hundred and twenty thousand for Cossey's in one year; and I may do it
again before I die. I may make a lot of money yet, ah, a lot of
money!" and his voice went off into a thin scream that was not
pleasant to listen to.
"I am sure I hope you will, sir," said Mr. Quest politely.
"Thank you; take that for good luck, you know. Well, well, Mr. Quest,
things haven't done so bad down in your part of the world; not at all
bad considering the times. I thought we should have had to sell that
old de la Molle up, but I hear that he is going to pay us off. Can't
imagine who has been fool enough to lend him the money.
Pages:
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186