"Orlando," she said in her mincing, piping little voice, "Orlando, dear,
the train is coming. Let me out. I'm not afraid of that bad man. I want
to catch my train."
Orlando stepped aside, and his mother passed through, to the
consternation of Mazarine, who fell back. The old man now realized that
Burlingame had tricked him. Laughter went up from the crowd. They had had
a great show at no cost.
"'If at first you don't succeed, try, try again,' Mr. Mazarine!" called
someone from the crowd.
"It's the next train she's going by, old Moses-not-much," shouted a
friend of Jonas Billings.
"She's had enough of you, Joel!" sneered another mocker.
"Wouldn't you like to know where she is, yellow-lugs?" queried a fat
washerwoman.
For an instant Mazarine stood demused, and then, thrusting the Bible into
his pocket, he drew himself up in an effort of pride and defiance.
"Judases! Jezebels!" he burst out at them all. Then he lunged through the
doorway of the reception-room; but at the door opening on the street his
courage gave way, and hunched up like one in pain, he ran towards the
hitching-post where he had left his horses and wagon. They were not
there. With a groan which was also a malediction, he went up the street
like a wounded elephant, and made his way to the police-station through a
town which had no pity for him.
During the hour he remained in the town, Mazarine searched in vain for
his horses and wagon.
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