Had she been less acquainted with the Caribbean dialects she would
have missed much of the story, but, as it was, she followed him
closely, urging him on with sharp expressions of amazement and
nods of understanding. Rapidly she gathered the facts of the case,
while her cheeks whitened and her eyes grew dark with indignation.
The sight renewed Allan's emotion. His voice broke, his black
hands shook, he began to sob once more, and great tears stole down
his ebony cheeks. But he managed to answer her terse, shocked
questions with some degree of intelligence, calling upon his vivid
imagination for such details as his memory had lost.
"I wait an' wait for him to h'emerge, but he does not come.
Perhaps they 'ave killed the poor mon once more."
"How did you get here?"
"With my feet, mistress. Sometimes rode I on the train, but the
train people are very common; they h'addressed me rudely and threw
me by the wayside."
"Couldn't you telephone?"
"I do not h'understand 'ow."
"Why didn't he notify me at once? If I had only known--"
"Those 'eartless Spiggoties would not h'allow it. Oh, you will
h'assist the poor mon! Say it. Praise be to God, he is bleeding in
the prison--"
"Yes, yes, certainly."
Allan reached clumsily this time to kiss the hem of her skirt, but
she stepped aside quickly, fumbling meanwhile in her purse for a
bank-note, while he exclaimed:
"God bless you, good mistress.
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