Mr. Jones received the suggestion without the
slightest stir, even in the deep sockets of his eyes, where a steady,
faint gleam was the only thing telling of life and attention in his
attenuated body. But Ricardo, as soon as he had enunciated his happy
thought, perceived in it other possibilities more to the point and of
greater practical advantage.
"With your looks, sir, it will be easy enough," he went on evenly, as
if no silence had intervened, always respectful, but frank, with
perfect simplicity of purpose. "All you've got to do is just to lie down
quietly. I noticed him looking sort of surprised at you on the wharf,
sir."
At these words, a naive tribute to the aspect of his physique, even more
suggestive of the grave than of the sick-bed, a fold appeared on that
side of the governor's face which was exposed to the dim light--a deep,
shadowy, semicircular fold from the side of the nose to bottom of the
chin--a silent smile. By a side-glance Ricardo had noted this play of
features. He smiled, too, appreciative, encouraged.
"And you as hard as nails all the time," he went on. "Hang me if anybody
would believe you aren't sick, if I were to swear myself black in
the face! Give us a day or two to look into matters and size up that
'yporcrit."
Ricardo's eyes remained fixed on his crossed shins. The chief, in his
lifeless accents, approved.
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