He turned upon me a faintly quizzical look.
"I mean, somebody saw her—some tourist—that time she danced at Papeete—Remember?—and got away with it?"
The thing seemed already so remote that he had to grope back. Then he laughed.
"Lord, no. Look here, Dole. It was her herself seen the thing at Papeete. On board a tourist boat. I found out about it since I learned her language good. Her and some others went aboard to dance the hula—same as always, you know. Then some of them, the tourists, understand—Well, they had to spring the latest thing from Broadway. And then this woman of mine—Well, you can imagine. Like a woman with a new hat. Got to run right off and show it to the whole damn length and breadth of the South Seas. That's all.—And once upon a time I thought I was bright.—"
Out of the half house at the rear of the platform came the daughter of a queen, bearing under one arm a prince of this island valley, and in the other hand a bowl of coconut wine for the visitor. And for her lord. For you will see that at last, despite the malignant thrusts and obstacles of destiny, this gutter snipe of Gotham had come to a certain estate.
When I left, he accompanied me slowly to the beach.
"You ought to like it here," I said. "After all, the city could never have given you so much."
"No," he said. Wide-eyed, he took in the azure immensity of the sea. "No. Here a guy has got time to think, think, without any hurry or worry.—I been thinking, Dole, a lot. I ain't going to say nothing about it, but Dole, I b'lieve I got an idea coming along. No flivver this time. A real, sure-fire hunch. Something that'll go big in the city. Big!"
And so I left him there in the shadow of the mountain, staring at the impassable sea.