CHAPTER XVIII.Harcout again.—“Things going slow.”—A Bit of personal History.—A new Tenant.—Detective Generalship.—Mrs. Winslow fears she is watched.—Mr. Pinkerton cogitates.
IT is pleasant to realize that the world moves along just the same, whether the many mild lunatics it carries attempt to interfere with it or not. There are countless men, precisely like Harcout, incapable of holding in their little brains but one idea at a time, and that idea invariably pushes to the surface their own supreme egotism and self-consciousness, and just as invariably displays their utter ignorance of what they are continually interfering with; and it is both a grateful and charitable thought that such small minds, burdened with such vast assurance, are merely provided by Omniscience to make us patient, t
