"Conrad, Joseph - Tomorrow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Conrad Joseph)

ain't it?" The old chap had been advertising in
the London papers for Harry Hagberd, and offer-
ing rewards for any sort of likely information.
And the barber would go on to describe with sar-
donic gusto, how that stranger in mourning had
been seen exploring the country, in carts, on foot,
taking everybody into his confidence, visiting all
the inns and alehouses for miles around, stopping
people on the road with his questions, looking into
the very ditches almost; first in the greatest excite-
ment, then with a plodding sort of perseverance,
growing slower and slower; and he could not even
tell you plainly how his son looked. The sailor
was supposed to be one of two that had left a tim-
ber ship, and to have been seen dangling after some
girl; but the old man described a boy of fourteen
or so--"a clever-looking, high-spirited boy." And
when people only smiled at this he would rub his
forehead in a confused sort of way before he slunk
off, looking offended. He found nobody, of
course; not a trace of anybody--never heard of
anything worth belief, at any rate; but he had not
been able somehow to tear himself away from Cole-
brook.

"It was the shock of this disappointment, per-
haps, coming soon after the loss of his wife, that
had driven him crazy on that point," the barber
suggested, with an air of great psychological in-
sight. After a time the old man abandoned the ac-
tive search. His son had evidently gone away;
but he settled himself to wait. His son had been
once at least in Colebrook in preference to his na-
tive place. There must have been some reason for
it, he seemed to think, some very powerful induce-
ment, that would bring him back to Colebrook
again.

"Ha, ha, ha! Why, of course, Colebrook.
Where else? That's the only place in the United
Kingdom for your long-lost sons. So he sold up
his old home in Colchester, and down he comes here.
Well, it's a craze, like any other. Wouldn't catch
me going crazy over any of my youngsters clear-
ing out. I've got eight of them at home." The
barber was showing off his strength of mind in the
midst of a laughter that shook the tap-room.

Strange, though, that sort of thing, he would
confess, with the frankness of a superior intelli-