The major had lost faith in humanity, and knew, besides, that all humanity had lost faith in him, for it was more than intimated that he was suspected of collusion with Prosper.
The little dapper “fits” imitator declared that he had lost all ambition, and should at once return to his legitimate business of three-card monte.
As for the other two, they contented themselves for weeks with a vain attempt to dog the movements of their late associates, and learn what had become of the doctor’s money.
The only man who made any profit out of the operation was the landlord of the “hotel,” who found the wallet lying on the table after Prosper’s half-frenzied exit, and sold it to a countryman for three dollars, applying that sum to the rent of the room.
Perhaps the bitterest moment undergone by any of them all, however, came to the share of Prosper himself, the next morning, when he read in the papers an offer of a thousand dollars’ reward for the return of that very wallet.
Then, indeed, he bowed his head in utter desolation, for the truth became only too clear to a mind so well trained as his own.
“Changed in the crowd!” he exclaimed.
“Got into the wrong hands. Somebody else will get the reward or keep the wallet!”
It was too much for human endurance, and for at least an hour the defeated pickpocket had serious thoughts of giving up everything and going to work for an honest living.
It looked a good deal as if even the evil one had turned against him, which is very much what every evil man is apt to make up his mind to, sooner or later.