He gave a sidelong glance to the governor, and repeated it several times during the operation, which did not take long, and even afterwards, when after putting away the implements, he resumed his walking, humming more snatches of unknown songs. Mr. Jones preserved a complete immobility, his thin lips compressed, his eyes veiled. His face was like a carving.
“So you would like to try your hand at cards with that skunk, sir?” said Ricardo, stopping suddenly and rubbing his hands.
Mr. Jones gave no sign of having heard anything.
“Well, why not? Why shouldn't he have the experience? You remember in that Mexican town—what's its name?—the robber fellow they caught in the mountains and condemned to be shot? He played cards half the night with the jailer and the sheriff. Well, this fellow is condemned, too. He must give you your game. Hang it all, a gentleman ought to have some little relaxation! And you have been uncommonly patient, sir.”
“You are uncommonly volatile all of a sudden,” Mr. Jones remarked in a bored voice. “What's come to you?”
The secretary hummed for a while, and then said:
“I'll try to get him over here for you tonight, after dinner. If I ain't here myself, don't you worry, sir. I shall be doing a bit of nosing around—see?”
“I see,” sneered Mr. Jones languidly. “But what do you expect to see in the dark?”
Ricardo made no answer, and after another turn or two slipped out of the room. He no longer felt comfortable alone with the governor.