ford believe himself in danger today when he passed before you?"
"Ah, monsieur," replied the man, "that was a terrible accident!"
My uncle picked up a stool, placed it by the table and sat down. He took off his hat and set it on his knees, then he spoke, looking at the floor.
"Do you believe in God?"
I saw the old man rub his forehead with his hand and the ball of his first finger make a cross.
"Yes, monsieur," he said, "I do."
"Then," replied Abner, "you can hardly believe that things happen out of chance."
"We call it chance, monsieur," said the man, "when we do not understand it."
"Sometimes we use a better term," replied Abner. "Now, today Randolph did not understand this death of Blackford, and yet he called it an act of God."
"Who knows," said the man; "are not the ways of God past finding out?"
"Not always," replied my uncle.
He gathered his chin into his hand and sat for some time motionless, then he continued:
"I have found out something about this one."
The old mountebank moved to his stool beyond the table and sat down.
"And what is that, monsieur?" he said.
"That you are in danger of your life—for one thing."
74
