It happened THEN, and even the boy knew, and
followed the man, shrieking that he had killed his mother." There was
a terrible calmness now in Jan's voice. "M'sieur, it was true. She
wasted away like a flower after that night. She died, and left the boy
alone with the curse. And that boy, m'sieur, was Jan Thoreau. The
woman was his mother."
There was silence now, a dead, pulseless quiet, broken after a moment
by a movement. It was Thornton, groping across the table. Jan felt his
hands touch his arm. They groped farther in the darkness, until Jan
Thoreau's hands were clasped tightly in Thornton's.
"And that--is all?" he questioned hoarsely.
"No, it is but the beginning," said Jan softly. "The curse has
followed me, m'sieur, until I am the unhappiest man in the world. To-
day I have done all that is to be done. When my father died he left
papers which my mother was to give to me when I had attained manhood.
When she died they came to me. She knew nothing of that which was in
them, and I am glad. For they told the story that I have told to you,
m'sieur, and from his grave my father prayed to me to make what
restitution I could. When he came into the North for good he brought
with him most of his fortune--which was large, m'sieur--and placed it
where no one would ever find it--in the stock of the Great Company.
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