nd dollars, that when the hounds got the scent
at last the quarry had reached the water--in other words, Sebastian
Dolores had achieved the St. Lawrence. The criminal had had near a day's
start before a telegram was sent to the police at Montreal, Quebec, and
other places to look out for the picaroon who had left his mark on the
parish of St. Saviour's. The telegram would not even then have been sent
had it not been for M. Fille, who, suspecting Sebastian Dolores, still
refrained from instant action. This he did because he thought Jean
Jacques would not wish his beloved Zoe's grandfather sent to prison. But
when other people at last declared that it must have been Dolores,
M. Fille insisted on telegrams being sent by the magistrate at Vilray
without Jean Jacques' consent. He had even urged the magistrate to
"rush" the wire, because it came home to him with stunning force that,
if the money was not recovered, Jean Jacques would be a beggar. It was
better to jail the father-in-law, than for the little money-master to
take to the road a pauper, or stay on at St. Saviour's as an underling
where he had been overlord.

As for Jean Jacques, in his heart of hearts he knew who had robbed him.
He realized that it was one of the radii of the comedy-tragedy which
began on the Antoine, so many years before; and it had settled in his
mind at last that Sebastian Dolores was but part of the dark machinery
of fate, and that what was now had to be.

For one whole day after the robbery he was like a man
paralysed--dispossessed of active being; but when his creditors began
to swarm, when M. Mornay sent his man of business down to foreclose his
mortgages before others could take action, Jean Jacques waked from his
apathy. He began an imitation of his old restlessness, and made essay
again to pull the strings of his affairs. They were, however, so
confused that a pull at one string tangled them all.

When the constables and others came to him, and said that they were on
the trail of the robber, and that the rogue would be caught, he nodded
his head encouragingly; but he was sure in his own mind that the flight
of Dolores would be as successful as that of Carmen and Zoe.

This is the way he put it: "That man--we will just miss finding him, as
I missed Zoe at the railroad junction when she went away, as I missed
catching Carmen at St. Chrisanthine. When you are at the shore, he will
be on the river; when you are getting into the train, he w